


Barton Boys

by uofmdragon



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Next Avengers: Heroes of Tomorrow, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Birthday Party, Christmas, Father-Son Relationship, First Day of School, Halloween, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Principal Phil Coulson, Single Father Clint Fic, Single Parents, Thanksgiving, cameos by other characters, except actually assistant Principal, except with Bartons instead of Gilmores, kind of a Gilmore Girls based AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/pseuds/uofmdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint was teenager, his ex-girlfriend brought his son, Francis, to him and said that she couldn't raise their child. Clint didn't want to see his son go into the system and decided that he would raise Francis himself.  Since then Clint has been trying to be the best father he could be, but could never really settle into one place.  </p><p>With some help from an old friend, Clint has managed to Francis into Shield Academy, a where there is handsome assistant principal. Clint has sworn off relationships, but his old friend wants to see him happy and is willing to do whatever it takes to make him happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barton Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffy_subtext](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffy_subtext/gifts).



> A long time ago, fluffy_subtext requested Single Father Clint/Coulson. I decided to write something and started writing snippets of stories over the past few months on my tumblr. This is the end result.
> 
> Beta by allochthon.

Clint pulled his car into one of the few spots that surrounded the prestigious Shield Academy.  He reached down and turned the car off, waiting for objections or some sort of noise from the passenger seat, instead he was met with silence, absolute silence.

"Looks like a nice place," Clint commented, watching as two young men walked into the schools, bags over their shoulders, heads tilted as they talked to one another.

Silence.

"It's supposed to be a good school, you do well here, and you can go to any college you want," Clint pointed out.

More silence.

Clint drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he considered the grounds.  A young woman walked by and Clint decided to just do something to get a reaction, "She looks cute."

"Ew," Francis said, and then scowled when he realized what he'd done.

"Knew you were alive," Clint said, glancing over at his son, who glared at him.  "C'mon, let's go meet everyone."

"I don't want to," Francis said. "I don't need school, I can help you at the garage."

"Nope," Clint said, opening the door and climbing out.  "Nor can you help me out at the diner, far too young for that."

"But I don't need school,' Francis said, climbing out.  "I'm not going to fit in."

"Just give it time," Clint said, grabbing Francis' backpack out of the trunk.  "You can do this. I pulled a lot of strings to get you in."

"I never you asked to," Francis pointed out.

"I... I just want what's best for you," Clint said and the best did not include anything that resembled Clint's own life. Clint's life was a mess and the best thing in it was Francis, so he needed to take care of his son.  He guided Francis into the school office, feeling slightly out of place in the clean building that was simple but elegant despite wearing some of his nicer clothes. Francis at least blended in, but Clint didn't want his son sticking out because his clothes weren't right.  Clint would do anything for his son, even find a way to get him into a private school like Shield Academy.

They entered the office, aware of the bustle and hustle of it. Clint gently smacked the back of Francis' head when he started glowering at all of it.  "Smile."

Clint didn't get a smile, but he did Francis to stop with the angry face.  He waited until the bald man behind the counter was finished on the phone and glancing around.

"Excuse me, I have a meeting with Principal Hill," Clint said.

"You and everyone else," the man said.  "Take a seat.  She'll get to you when she can."

"And when will that be?" Clint asked.

"Probably after the first bell," the man answered.

"Sweet," Francis said, dropping into a chair with a smug look on his face.  "I won't have first period. Nice work, Clint."

The man behind the desk arched an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything.  The phone rang and the man picked it up, "Shield Academy, Sitwell speaking.... No, Assistant Principal Coulson is not in his office right now, neither is Principal Hill.... Probably because it's before school and thus, they like to be in the halls to catch troublemakers... Yes, I'm sure they're on the look out for the horrible people that have been picking on poor Flash... Yes, I'll let Assistant Principal Coulson know that.  Thank you Mrs. Thompson."  Sitwell sighed and went back to his computer.

Clint took a reluctant seat, because there wasn't much he could do about it.  The door to the office opened again and in walked a woman in a business suit. She glanced at them, but looked at Sitwell, who had answered another call.  "Sitwell."  Sitwell pointed at Clint.  She looked back at them and extended her hand.  "Maria Hill, Principal."

"Clint Barton, Father," Clint said, taking it and standing.

"And this must be Francis," Hill said, smiling at him.

Francis made a face.  "I don't want to be called that."

"And what do you want to be called?" Maria asked.

"Hawkeye," Francis said.

"Fine, Hawkeye," Maria said, "I'm afraid your last school didn't send your grades."

"I was only there for a few weeks," Francis replied.

"I tried to get him in here for the start of the school year, but I messed up the application..."

"We didn't have the money," Francis cut in.

Clint blushed slightly, because it was true.  They hadn't had the money, because the car had broken down when Clint had been between jobs.  They had had to apply for hardship and it had been too late for that. Luckily, Clint knew a few people that knew a few people.

"I'm aware of your financial situation," Maria stated.  "I'm also aware of Hawkeye's problems, ones that I don't expect will be repeated here."

"He's going to be on his best behavior," Clint stated, not needing to look at his son to see him scowling.  Maria looked doubtful about that statement and Clint didn't have it in his heart to blame her.

"Right," Maria said.  "Due to your history, I feel its best that we have Hawkeye take a few tests to determine where he is academically and then place him in the appropriate class."

"Of course," Clint agreed with a nod.

"If you'll come with me, Hawkeye," Hill said, "I believe Sitwell hurried to put together a few tests for you to take this morning."

"Great," Francis said, trudging behind her to one of the rooms off the office.

"Um, Ms. Hill?" Clint said.  "How long is this going to take?"

Maria turned to look at him, "We'll grade the tests right away and get him into his afternoon classes, Mr. Barton.  If you'd like you can go and pick him up at the end of the day."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Clint said.  "There's no more paperwork to fill out, right?"

"Sitwell?" Maria asked.  "Is Francis 'Hawkeye' Barton up to date on his paperwork?"

"He is," Sitwell answered.  "Except for the class schedule."

"Thank you," Clint said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Barton," Ms. Hill said.  Clint nodded and headed out of the office.  He paused in the hallway, taking it all in.  Francis could do well here, if he put his mind to it.

"Excuse me," a soft voice said.  Clint turned and met the blue eyes of a man older than himself, slightly balding, but the small smile was kind and there was something about it that was intriguing.  The eyes though, Clint felt an urge to stare into them, but he forced himself to step out of the way.

"Sorry," Clint said.

"Not a problem," the man said, slipping into the office.  Clint glanced backwards at him, taking in the suit, and shook his head.  Way out of his league.

*

The students had just opened their books when the door to Phil's class opened.  Sitwell stood there with a skinny teenager with tanned skin and hair that looked like it might have been bleached white.  The teen has a black and white striped shirt, and black pants.  
"Yes?" Phil asked, arching an eyebrow. Sitwell knew better than to just open the door unless it was an emergency.  Phil only taught a handful of classes, and didn't like being interrupted when it came to administration matters.

"You have a new student," Jasper informed him, handing him a piece of paper.

"I wasn't aware I was getting a new student," Phil said.

"Take a look at the note," Jasper suggested.  Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but looked at the note in Jasper's neat handwriting.

_Francis Barton, Sophomore, was just granted hardship by Fury. No steady place of residence._

Phil glanced up at that and looked at the teen again.  He could see the perpetual scowl, probably worn as a defensive mechanism.  If they moved a lot, then he probably wasn't used to having roots.  He wasn't used to having any consistency, which was a shame.

The rest of the note contained Francis' schedule. Phil noted that what were typically elective hours were slotted with two courses that most Freshmen took. The boy was behind on some of his studies, but it looked as if they were making an effort to catch him up, which was good.

"Alright Fr..."

"Hawkeye," Francis interrupted.

"Excuse me?" Phil asked.

"I want to be called Hawkeye," Francis insisted.  He wondered what Maria had made of that, but Phil was going to let it go.

"Of course, Hawkeye, why don't you take a seat next to..." Phil looked over his class, trying to decide who would be a good role model for the teen. Kate Bishop was one of his best students, but tended to get tired of attitudes real fast and Francis was just radiating an attitude of not wanting to be here.  No, Phil needed someone that would ignore Hawkeye's moods and try to see past it and befriend the young man, a kind student that tended to always see the best in others, "Mr. Altman.  Mr. Kaplan would you please relocate yourself."

"Sure, Mr. Coulson," Billy said, moving to another seat.  Hawkeye went and took the seat, slouching down into it almost immediately.

"I do prefer that my students sit up, Mr. Hawkeye," Phil said, noting that Sitwell had slipped out of the room already.

"Why?" Mr. Hawkeye asked.

"I like to see my students' eyes and when you're slouched like that I can't see them," Phil answered.  "As your classmates will tell you, I'm very good at picking up on when they are failing to understand something, which I can't do that when you're hiding behind your classmate."

There was a brief pause, but gradually Francis inched his way up.  He was still slouching, but Phil was able to see him. He'd let it slide this once, since Phil had a feeling he would be picking his battles with this one.  He thought he'd moved beyond massive attitude when he'd gotten his position at Shield.

He began class, filling it with part lecture, and part discussion. He noted that Francis kept quiet.  At the end of class, Mr. Altman approached him.

"Yes, Mr. Altman?" Phil asked.

"I was wondering about the project we're working on," Teddy started.

"What about it?"

"My group already has four people, which you said was the maximum. Did you want us to add Hawkeye too?" Teddy asked.

Phil leaned back in his chair as he considered the project he assigned a week ago that was due in two weeks.  Francis would have missed the readings up to that point and putting him in any group would cause problems. Yet Francis would need to do the assignment.  "He does need to be a part of a group Mr. Altman.  Will you discuss it with your group members to see if there is a portion he can do? I know you four tend to be on top of things, except for Mr. Shepherd who waits until the last second."

Teddy grinned at that.  "Yeah, I'll talk to Kate about it.  She's in charge of making sure everyone does their part."

Phil nodded, unsurprised that Kate Bishop was leading the group of four.  "Maybe he could work on one of the bonus portions."

"That's a good idea. Thanks Mr. Coulson," Teddy said, heading out toward his next class.

*

Francis watched as the other students streamed out of the building.  He hung back because he knew that his dad wouldn't be there on time.  He never was, because he would always finish what he was doing and because if there was one minute left before he was supposed to go, he would start one more thing.  It was how Clint Barton had always operated, get to work early and stay late, make as much money as possible.  Francis understood that it was for him, that his dad fought to save everything and try to give him everything he could, but sometime he just wanted to be with his dad.  Sometimes, the weekly trips to an archery range just weren't enough.  
He caught sight of few kids he recognized from his classes, the big blond, Todd, maybe?  He was walking with the boy that given up his seat for History class and two others.  They looked to be heavily involved in discussion that involved a lot of hand motions and while Todd (?) had been friendly, Francis really didn't want to be accidentally drawn into anything.  

He slipped by them and made his way toward the parking lot where other students were being picked up and others were driving off in their own cars.  He caught sight of the Charger coming along the road.  It stood out with all the newer cars that occupied the parking lot.

Francis headed toward the end of the pick-up line and was able to make it to the car without saying a word to anyone else.

"How was it?" His dad asked, as soon as the door was opened.  "Horrible?"

"Yes," Francis said, tossing his bag into the back and climbing in.

"Learn anything?"

"Sure, I know where the lunch room is," Francis replied.

"That's a start," his dad said, carefully maneuvering toward the street.  Francis rolled his eyes, because his dad was always full of encouragement.

"I don't suppose there's a way to get out of this?" Francis asked.  "They're all..."

"Nope," his dad said, cutting him off. "You're stuck there, maybe if you hadn't gotten expelled from the last school."

"That jerk deserved it though," Francis whined.

"Maybe," His dad relented, because he knew the full story, Francis had told him and he said he believed Francis, "Regardless, you can't go back and this is the best school in the area. I know you've got your mom's brains in there, so you'll be fine."

Francis sighed, at his father's subtle way of putting himself down.  He hated how often he realized it was happening and how used to it he was.  His mother, who he'd seen a handful of times that he could remember in his life, was to be held in high regard and Francis should aspire to be more like her, at least according to his father. Whereas anything that had to do with the man that raised Francis was lower than low.  Its not that he thought that badly of his mother, it was hard to have any feelings toward her, because he didn't know her all that well.

Francis watched as the neighborhoods streamed by as Clint took him back home.

"Are you home for tonight?" Francis asked, hopeful, when the quiet had stretched on for too long.

"Sorry, kiddo, I got called in to the diner.  If you want, you can swing by. I'll feed you," Clint offered.

"Do we have food in the house?" Francis asked.

"I think so," his dad said, sounding unsure.  That was probably a no then, Francis thought, because they hadn't been shopping yet.  They'd just moved and getting Francis in school and situated had been the first priority, since his dad would bring home food from the diner. Francis considered his options for the afternoon, maybe he'd play some games and then take his bicycle to the diner.  If it was busy, he'd probably be able to stay until it got too late for him to bike back and then he'd get to ride back when his dad got off. If it was slow, his dad would shoo him out of the diner sooner rather than later.

"If I go to the diner for dinner, will you be able to eat with me?" Francis asked.

His dad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he considered the question, "Can you wait until later?"

"Yeah," Francis said, the duh obvious in his voice. He could wait, if he could eat with his dad.

"Then yeah," Clint said.  "Just bring your homework with you."

"What makes you think I have any homework, I only went to half my classes?"

"Because they made it sound like I should expect homework from every class, every night," Clint stated.  "So homework, get on it."

"I'll do my best," Francis replied.

"That's all I ask," his dad said softly.

The car slowed as they came to the house and when it stopped, Francis climbed out to head in.

"You forgetting something?" his dad called out of the car.

Francis paused, and looked at him, "No?"

"Your bookbag is in the backseat," his dad radiated his disapproval at that.  Francis sighed, and shrugged.  He had to try at least, before leaning in and grabbing the bag.  His father's hand landed on his arm and Francis turned to look at him.

"Francis, please, do your homework and do your best, don't half-ass it," his father said.

Francis stared at him before frowning and nodding.  "Alright, sure Dad."

"I love you and I'm proud of you," his father said.

"I love you too," Francis said, before slipping out of the car with book bag in hand.

"I'll see you later," his dad said, giving him a little wave.

Francis waved back and headed in.  He raided the cupboards and found a box of granola bars and devoured one.  He turned on the TV and watched for a few minutes, trying to ignore the bag he'd tossed carelessly in the corner.  With a sigh, he turned it off and grabbed the bag to get to work.

*

Phil tilted back in his chair as the discussion about the upcoming dance wound down.  He'd made his notes and there wasn't anything else to add, mostly it was just staff complaints about having to supervise and talk parents into those roles as well.  Phil already had some ideas about whom to get, but he knew which parents could be relied on and which ones couldn't.

"Any other business?" Maria asked.  "Problems I need to be made aware of?"

"I have one," Sam said, raising his hand.  Phil glanced over at him and after Sam glanced around the room, "Francis 'Hawkeye' Barton."  
"Whose that?" Stark asked, only to be shushed by Steve.

"The new student?" Maria asked.

"He hasn't turned in a single assignment since he got here," Sam said, shaking his head.  "I know he's on hardship, but what the hell am I supposed to do?  All my grades are based on their assignments and they need to do the assignments to pass their tests.  I expect one or two throughout the year, but every one?!"

"Anyone else having any problems with him?" Maria asked, leaning back in her chair.

"He did his share of the group assignment," Phil said, and then considered.  "But he had several excuses for his section reviews. The chapter review is due today."

"He's passed all his reading quizzes in English," Natasha said, tilting her head.  "But he doesn't join in during group discussion."

"So he does his readings at least," Maria asked.

"I would assume so, I don't make a quiz they can't pass without reading the assignment," Natasha was a strict teacher, but the students all admitted she was fair.  He was fairly certain they were all slightly afraid of her, due to her ability to spot just about anything going on in the classroom.  Phil had marveled at how she'd spotted two crafty students passing notes.

"Who else has him?" Maria asked.

Bruce, Thor, and Hank raised their hands and then looked at one another.

"He didn't hand in his section reviews for bio," Bruce said.  "He did pass his test yesterday. I haven't had a chance to compare it to those he was sitting next to."

"You think he cheated?" Maria asked.

"He hasn't done any work, so I'm suspicious," Bruce said.  He looked over at Hank, "You have him?"

"Yeah, I guess he didn't do so well on the placement tests, so I have him for Chemistry," Hank said.

"Goodie," Jane muttered.  "I'll probably get him next semester."

"He's done all the labwork in class," Hank said, ignoring her. "But he doesn't talk much. But he's new and he's a sophomore with a bunch of freshmen."

"Francis is active in gym, but quiet as well," Thor said.  "It's not as if I have homework to be handed out this semester. When we switch to health..."

"So he's having problems in four of his six classes," Maria said, frowning.

"Who is this kid?" Steve asked.  "I don't have him, but Barton doesn't sound familiar."

"Fury gave him hardship," Maria said.  "I don't know where he came from or the father."

"Since when do we have hardships?" Stark asked, "Or is this what we're now calling the Stark Scholarships that you've renamed until there is no mention of Stark on them?"

"Do I need to call Pepper?" Maria growled at him.  "It's the afternoon meeting, shouldn't you be running your company?"

"I want to know what's going on at the school," Tony replied, smiling at her.

"Then shut it, unless you know anything about this family," Maria said. Phil was frankly impressed that Stark had lasted this long in the meeting.

"I know the father," Natasha said and Phil looked over at her curiously.  "We have history."

"Please tell me you're the baby momma," Tony stated.

"Hardly," Natasha said, gifting Tony with a glare. She turned to look back at Phil and Maria. "Call Clint, he'll handle it."

"Should we do a sit-down meeting?" Maria asked.

Natasha considered, "Perhaps, bring in Francis, so we're all in on the same page."

"That way Francis knows we're watching," Bruce agreed with a nod.

"What's the with the Hawkeye thing?" Sam asked.  "Anyone else find that kind of a weird nickname?"

"It was his father's stage name," Natasha said, shaking her head.  "Francis tried that on me and I informed him that I didn't call his father that and that I wouldn't be doing the same for him.  He accepted it.  I think he was surprised that someone knew his father."

"Right, meeting with the Bartons," Maria said adding to her to do list.  "Anything else?"  Silence greeted her question.  "Meeting adjourned, get out of here folks, enjoy the nice weather while we have it."

Phil waited for the rest of the staff to clear, so that Maria and he could talk privately.  She leaned back in her chair to look at him.

"Do you want me to take care of the Barton problem?" he offered.

"Would you?" Maria asked.  "I know Natasha thinks he'll help, but... he couldn't wait to get out of here that first day.  You've got the patience."

"Not a problem," Phil said, smiling at her.  "I'll get Sitwell to set it up."

Maria grinned, sharply. "He'll love that."

"I know, why else would I ask him to?" Phil said, gathering his things.  "Anything else you want me to do?"

"The after school program is going to be starting up soon," Maria said, glancing over at him.  "I don't suppose you'd be willing to take lead on that again?"

"Not a problem," Phil said.  "I enjoy working with them, though I can't really do curb patrol, if I do."

Maria growled, "Lemme guess, once it gets cold?"

"Putting on all that stuff takes time," Phil pointed out.

"Fine, that's fair," Maria said, huffing and making a big to-do about it.  Phil knew she didn't actually mind or she would be making arguments against it.  Maria stood and stretched.  "I should stop by the gym, see how the volleyball team is doing."

"Have fun with that," Phil said.

"You got plans?" Maria asked.

"Just papers and projects to grade," Phil replied back, heading out of the library.  He'd leave a note for Jasper to handle the phone call in the morning. He made a mental note to grab a doughnut for Jasper on his way in to "buy his forgiveness," and also to because Jasper had bought the doughnuts last week.

*

Phil finished his grading up and stretched, frowning as he took a look at the clock.  It was well past the time he should be home, well past the time he should have eaten.  His stomach rumbled and he debated where to go for a quick bite to eat.  Jasper would have already eaten, so he couldn't get his usual dining partner to join him.  That didn't leave many options for himself.  He tucked his work away as he gathered up his things to take home.  He turned the lights off and locked the door to his office.  His footsteps echoed down the empty hallways as he made his way to the side door that his car was parked near.  He stepped outside and breathed in the crisp autumn air and made his way to the car.  
Once he got there, he stripped off his tie, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt as he considered where to go.  There was always fast food, but he generally tried to eat better than that.  His neighbors had said that ET had gotten a new cook for the evening and the food was much better.  He hadn't mentioned it to Jasper who'd sworn off ET the last time he'd been there.  Phil was willing to give it another shot and started his car and drove toward the small diner that was near his apartment.  He found a parking space easily, since it was well past the usual dinner hour, and headed inside.

The diner was small and it had a few tables, but most of the customers took a seat at the counter.  Beyond it was the cook's station and grill.  Phil smiled when he realized he didn't recognize the man behind it.  Phil headed toward the counter watched the new cook as he interacted with one of the older ladies.  She had started blushing and waving him off.  The man laughed, backing away.  He turned and Phil's breath caught in his throat at the wide smile he was given.

"Hi," the man greeted, voice low and smooth.  "Welcome to ET."

"Hi," Phil said, heading toward the counter to take a seat.  "I heard there was a new cook, thought I'd see if the food had improved."

The man's smile widened and the eyes sparked, "I'd say it has."

"Yeah?  What's the special tonight?" Phil asked as he settled.

"Steak and potatoes tonight," the man said, but he indicated the board.  "Of course, you have options."

Phil blinked staring up at it, taking in all the changes.  "I see...  Stuffed Pepper soup?"

"It's real good," the man said, coming to stand near Phil.

"Filling?"

"Very," the man said.

Phil considered, looking it over.  "Can I get a cup of it with a steak?"

"Sure," the man agreed.  "Want that first?"

"Please, not sure I can wait long enough for you to cook it," Phil admitted.

"How do you want your steak?"

"Medium Well," Phil said.  "Sour cream and chives on the potatoes, please."

"Sure," the man agreed, "Anything to drink?"

"Decaf," Phil said.  "And a glass of water as well."

"Coming right up," the man said, turning and going to start on Phil's order.  Phil watched him walk away, eyes slowly drifting downward to the man's ass. His jeans seemed to hug it.  Phil blinked, surprised that he was checking out the cook.  He liked to think he went for a man's mind, not his ass.  Granted, he hadn't gone after anyone in a while. The man ducked behind the small wall that Phil was fairly sure led to an extension of the kitchen.  The two ladies were eating and talking, but the restaurant was empty for the most part.  Phil wished he'd thought to grab a book or an article, still he couldn't do anything about it now.

He didn't have to wait long, the man returned with a glass of water and a coffee cup.  Then grabbed the pot from the burner and poured him some.  He turned to the grill and Phil noted the pot that had been put to one side to keep it warm. The man moved with a familiarity and ease throughout the kitchen that Phil could admire.  Soon he had the soup in front of him, and Phil was able to eat something.  The soup was delicious and was accurately named, tasting just like a stuffed pepper.

When he'd gotten to the bottom of the cup, he frowned, and realized he should have gotten a bowl of it.  Maybe next time, because Phil would admit that good food would get him to come back pretty fast.

"Like it?" the man asked, surprising Phil. He looked up to find the friendly face right there.

"It's very good," Phil said.  "I'm wishing I had ordered a bowl."

"Thank you," the man said.

"Your recipe?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, owner says that as long as it doesn't cost much that I can mess with menu some," the man explained.  "I'm trying to figure out what sells and what doesn't."

"Want to open your own diner?" Phil asked, curious.

The man gave a short laugh and shook his head, "More like make myself indispensable, so I don't lose this job."

"I can't imagine that you would," Phil said.  "You seem friendly."

"Thanks," the man said.  "I just, I have a history and..."  he trailed off with a shrug.

"Lots of jobs?" Phil asked.  The man nodded.  "Nothing wrong with that."

"Not very many people would say that," the man pointed out.

"I'm not most people," Phil admitted, he'd seen kids turn it around in just four years.  

The man smiled, "I better get back to making your steak."

"I'm looking forward to it," Phil nodded, still hungry.  The man chuckled and went back to work.  A few minutes later, he had a well cooked steak and a baked potato.  The man left Phil to enjoy them, seeing to his other customers and the rest of the small shop. And enjoy his meal Phil did. The steak had been seasoned and cooked to perfection, and the baked potato was fluffy.  He finished his meal with a pleased smile on his face.

"I don't even have to ask if you liked it," the man said, returning to him.  "Not with that smile on your face."

"It was very good," Phil admitted.

"Glad to hear it," the man nodded.  "How about some dessert? We have pie?"

"Did you bake it?" Phil asked.

"Maybe," the man teased, eyes bright and full of mischief.

"Well, what kind of pie?" Phil asked.

"We've got apple, a pear and almond tart, and a salted caramel cheesecake pie," the man offered.

"The last one doesn't sound like a pie," Phil pointed out.

"It's in a pie pan though," the man joked.

"Well..." Phil considered, biting his lip as he thought about it.  "How about that pear and almond tart?"

"Coming right up," the man replied and moved to go it.  Phil blinked and noticed that the man had also grabbed his dinner plate.  Phil glanced around and noticed that the diner had emptied out. So, it didn't surprise him when the man returned quickly with his slice of what turned out to be wonderfully delicious pie. Phil couldn't help the little noise of pleasure.

"Well, now I know you like it," the man teased gently.

"Tell me you don't work every night," Phil said.

"Only on the weekdays," the man said.

"Fuck, I'm going to have start running again," Phil groaned.

"What?" the man asked, looking bewildered.

"I'm going to be in here all the time, your cooking..." Phil shook his head and took another bite.

"Thank you," the man said.

"Excellent service, excellent food, what more could a man ask for?" Phil asked, and mentally added a gorgeous waiter with a beautiful smile.  

"Well, I hope you come back," the man said.

"I'm planning on it already," Phil said as he took another bite of his pie.  There was no way that he wouldn't be coming back, not with that combination.

*

Clint slid his car into a parking space outside Shield Academy.  He glanced over at his son, who was shooting him suspicious looks, because Clint hadn't parked the car before.

"Dad?" Francis questioned.

"I have a question for the office," Clint explained.

Francis nodded.

"Out of curiosity, is there anything I should know about?" Clint asked, looking at his son.  He'd asked that question last night when he'd found a message from the school in his voicemail.  It had ruined a nice evening, because the guy with the eyes had come in again.  Only to grab a to go order, because he needed to do some work, but they'd talked again.  
"No," Francis said, just as he had done last night.

Clint nodded, sliding out of the car.  Francis did as well.  They walked in and when Francis made to head down the hallway towards his locker.  Clint shot out his hand, and rested it on his shoulder.  "It's early, why don't you come with me."

"Sure," Francis said, slowly. 

Clint smiled at the school secretary, Sitwell.  "I think we have an appointment with Mr. Coulson, I believe."

"I'll let him know," Jasper said.

"Appointment?" Francis echoed.

Jasper glanced at Francis, before looking at Clint and raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing you need to worry about, since there's nothing I need to know, right?" Clint asked, turning to look at him.

"Right," Francis said, glancing between them.

Someone cleared his throat behind him and Clint turned to see the man that was fast becoming his favorite customer.  He saw the spark of recognition in the other man's eyes, which was smoothly hid by a hand going out.  "Mr. Barton."

"Mr. Coulson, I presume," Clint said, taking the hand and shaking it.

"Yes," Coulson said, "You brought... Hawkeye with you?"

"I did," Clint said, reaching out to grab his son.  "Come along, Francis."

Francis followed him into Coulson's office.  He looked supremely uncomfortable, and Clint figured that Francis knew he was in trouble, more so for lying to Clint about it.  Clint pointed at a chair and Francis took a seat.  Coulson closed the door and made his way around his desk to take a seat.

"Mr. Barton-" Coulson started, but stopped when Clint held up a hand.

"Francis, you want to tell me why the school called me?" Clint asked, looking at his son.

"I don't know why the school called you," Francis said, glancing between the two men.

"You haven't been getting in any fights?"

"No!" Francis objected and Clint thought he heard the ring of truth to that.  He looked over at Coulson, who was watching them with a curious expression.

"Go ahead, Mr. Coulson." Clint said.

"I called you because Hawkeye hasn't been doing his work," Coulson said.  Clint bit his lip and just about saw red, because there was no reason for Francis not to be doing his work.  Francis had told him he was doing his work.  Coulson was still talking about the high academic standards for the school and Clint could understand that, approve of it, which was why he'd fought to to get Francis into the school.  He waited until Coulson was done, before looking at his son.

"Is this true?" Clint asked.

"I've been doing my work," Francis objected.

"I have reports from Mr. Wilson and Dr. Banner that you haven't turned in a single assignment," Coulson reported.

Clint caught the minor difference in that sentence and realized Francis' loophole, "Francis, have you been turning in your work?"

Francis hesitated, because he'd been caught out and really there was no denying this one.  "Um...  no."

"Why haven't you been turning in your work?" Clint asked.

"I... I don't know..." Francis admitted.

"You don't know?" Clint repeated.  "Did you forget you did it? Because I kind of doubt that you did that."

Francis was clearly hesitating about answering that question.

"No, let me guess, you chose not to turn it in?" Clint asked.  "Probably because...  you don't want to go to school here?"

Francis' hesitation turned into a glower and Clint knew he had hit the nail on the head.  

"I know I promised one school for all of High School, but you got expelled, Francis, for fighting. You couldn't stay at that school," Clint said, hoping that maybe this time it sink into his son's thick skull.  "I'm sorry,  I had to start you late here.  That's on me, but you have to try, you have to do your work, and you have to turn it in.  I want you to graduate from here."

"Why should I?" Francis asked.  "It's not like you're even around to do anything about it?"

"Do you need me take off work to follow you around and make sure you turn in your assignments?" Clint asked.  "You're sixteen, Francis, I shouldn't have to do that, but if I have to I will. I'll rearrange the budget and you know what the first thing to be cut will be?"

"What?" Francis asked with trepidation.

"Our trips to the range," Clint replied.  They'd found shooting ranges and every Saturday would go shooting, but it was the one thing that he could take away from Francis and he didn't threaten it lightly.

"But that's our time together," Francis objected.

"We'll have to find something else to do," Clint said, with a shrug.  "I've always scrimped and saved for it, given up on other stuff, so that we could do this together. I've always said that so long as I have a way to afford it, we will go, but if I need to come in here and follow you around like you're a child instead of the smart teenager I know, then it's the first to go."

"But..." Francis started to object.

"Mr. Coulson, you have my contact information?" Clint asked, calmly.

"I do," Coulson said, reading it out and Clint nodded.

"Please inform Francis' teachers to call or email me whenever Francis doesn't have an assignment in," Clint requested. "I'll be in the next day to baby-sit him and make sure his next one is turned in."

And there it was: the full on, defeated, but still trying to find a way to beat him look that reminded Clint of Barney somedays.  It had to be the Barton blood in him.  

"And Francis, if you suddenly start failing, I'll be using the range money to pay for a tutor," Clint informed him, cutting off that option. "If you're having trouble, you ask for help from someone.  I'll find another way to pay for a tutor if you actually need one."

"Guess I don't have any choice," Francis grumbled.  "Can I go now?"

Clint glanced over at Coulson, who nodded.  "Yes," he waited until Francis was at the door, before he called after him, "... And Francis, you know the consequences if you get expelled again."

He heard Francis huff and turned back to Coulson.  He sighed, sinking into the seat.  "Well, I feel all kinds of guilty now, but I'm not sure what else I could do."

"Was there anything else that he would have responded to being taken away?" Coulson asked.

"The only way I can take away the X-Box is if I lock it in my trunk, which means it's just more likely to get stolen," Clint said, shaking his head.  "And it's the only thing I can enforce easily."

"Assuming that his work is done and done correctly," Phil pointed out.

"Hey, I believe my kid when he says it's done," Clint said, ignoring Coulson's eyebrow arch.  "My kid has the brains for it. He can do this, he's just... rebelling."

"Then I wouldn't feel so bad," Coulson said.  "If it's something he can do, then it's up for him to decide to do it."

Clint nodded.  "Yeah.  And hey, please, don't hesitate to call if you're having a problem with him.  He's a good kid, he just needs to adjust," Clint said.

"Are you sure?" Coulson asked.

"Completely, Francis is the most important thing in my life," Clint said.  "I want him to have a chance at future I never had and he can't do that unless he does his work, so... I know I gave all my contact information, don't hesitate to contact me."

"I won't," Coulson said, offering his hand.  "It was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you, too," Clint said taking it, and giving the other man a small smile.

*

Phil knew that it was a bad idea to stop at the diner again, at least not by himself.  Not now that he knew that Francis' father was the handsome man that worked there.  Phil knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist the temptation that was Clint Barton and his food.  There was something about him that intrigued Phil.  Clint, who welcomed him each time that he went in with a warm smile and good conversation.  The first few conversations had been awkward after the meeting, but after that, well, they'd flowed more easily and they'd started talking more and more. Phil tended to come late in the evening, when it wasn't quite as busy.  The food was better than anything than Phil could make for himself and it wasn't that expensive, though he tended to leave a larger tip than was necessary.  Which Phil rationalized by the fact that Clint worked hard, and did his best to make sure all his customers were happy.  He did resist going in too often though, sticking to two or three times a week, depending on what was going on at the school.  
It was a chilly, rainy October evening when Phil stepped into the diner and inhaled the scent of chili.  "Please tell me you've got chili cooking."

"I've got chili being kept warm," Clint replied, teasing him.  "The cornbread is just about to come out of the oven though."

"That sounds delicious," Phil decided, taking what had become his usual seat at the diner.

"It is," Clint replied.  "You just want a bowl?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Phil nodded.  "With the cornbread."

"Alright," Clint replied.  "What do you want to drink?"

"How spicy is it?" Phil asked.

"Mild, this time.  I'll probably do a spicy one when the snow starts flying and I can sell more of it," Clint said.

"Water is fine then," Phil decided.

Clint nodded, going to get him the water.

Phil took the time to scan the restaurant now, and spotted a familiar blond head tucked in the furthest back booth.  He waited until Clint came back, before asking, "Is that..?"

"Yep," Clint agreed.

"How often does that happen?" Phil asked.

"He comes in pretty often, only stays about once a week, if its slow and its been slow tonight," Clint said glancing outside.

"Yeah," Phil agreed, glancing at the outside and shuddering.  "I'm sure you've done really well with the chili today."

"Would have done better, if I had made it yesterday for the morning guy to let a pot cook for most of the day," Clint admitted with a little shrug.  

"Next time," Phil said.  "And this weather isn't supposed to let up for a bit."

"Yeah, but I'm not doing chili everyday," Clint said.  "Probably about once a week and even then I'll change what kinds."

Phil arched an eyebrow, hoping for some hints of what food was going to be served.  He liked it when Clint gave him heads up, it made it easier to make a decision to stop by.

"I have a great white chicken chili recipe," Clint said.

"You are a tease," Phil decided.

Clint arched an eyebrow, "And how am I tease?"

"Promising me all this good food and yet..." Phil gestured to his empty place setting, "...Nothing."

Clint laughed and Phil couldn't help but smile at that sound. "I was waiting for the cornbread to come out, but if you don't want it anymore."

"No, I love cornbread," Phil objected, frowning at him.

"Then patience," Clint suggested, before his attention wandered, "Hey, you are not supposed to go behind the counter."

"But I'm thirsty," Francis said, already heading back to his seat.  "And you're..." Francis stared, "Mr. Coulson?"

"Hawkeye," Phil said, nodding in greeting.

"You actually call him that?" Clint said.

"He requested it," Phil explained.  He did try and call his students with whatever they requested.

"What happens if I request being called Hawkeye?" Clint asked.   "He stole it from me, you know."

"I seem to recall Ms. Romanova mentioning that it was his father's," Phil replied, playing coy, in hopes to maybe get the full story behind that name.  "Did you earn that name somehow?"

"Hawkeye, the World's Greatest Marksman," Clint replied, with a slight flourish of his hand.

"The World's Greatest Marksman?" Phil repeated, sounding dubious about the what Clint said.

"At least that was what I was billed as," Clint said.

"Billed? You were a performer?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, in the circus," Clint said.  "I could hit any target, moving or otherwise."

"With a gun?"  Phil asked, remembering them talking about the range.

"With a bow and arrow," Clint corrected.

"Really?" Phil asked.  "Is your son going out for the archery team then?"

"I don't know," Clint shrugged.  "We're not... traditional archers."

"Traditional archers?" Phil repeated.

"Our form is horrible to the archery purists," Clint replied, but gave Phil a smug look. " But I used to be able to hit a bullseye while hanging upside down on the trapeze."

"A trapeze?" Phil asked, eyes wandering over Clint as he tried to imagine the other man doing such a maneuver.  "You can't do it now?"

"No idea, but I haven't practiced on a trapeze in a while, can't find 'em anywhere you know," Clint admitted.  "I'll be back."

Phil watched as he turned, heading toward the oven just as a timer went off.  Clint pulled a pan out of it. Phil smiled. The cornbread, which meant dinner.  He watched Clint move about the space, grabbing a bowl and spooning chili into it and grabbing a plate before cutting the cornbread.  He brought it over and set it gently in front of Phil.  "This looks great."

"Thanks," Clint said.  "Eat up, before it gets cold."

Phil was already reaching for his spoon, gave Clint one last smile, before setting to work on the food.  Clint left him in peace, going to speak with Francis and clean up a bit until he got another customer.  He came by to check on Phil, who simply gave him a thumbs up, since he had a mouthful of cornbread at the time. Clint gave him a wide grin, before leaving him to the meal.  There was a brief check in with Francis, and Phil could see the mutual affection between the two.  Phil decided he'd speak with Clay Quartermain about the possibility of recruiting Francis to the team.

*

Francis would reluctantly admit to adjusting to his newest school and maybe, starting to like it.  He'd at least managed to catch up from not turning in assignments and was doing well in his classes.  He'd even made a few friends, though he wasn't sure if he would actually call them friends.  They're at least people he could hang out with.  He even liked a few of them. James Rogers was just a general nice guy, but from the school gossip that was because his father was Mr. Rogers, the art teacher, who according to everyone in the school was the nicest teacher.  Torunn Odinson was the daughter of Mr. Odinson (their PE teacher) and Francis had quickly learned that if they were doing anything competitive in gym class, it would be best to be on her side.  

There was also America Chavez, who was his table partner in biology.  They were in the back row, since America hadn't been on the attendance list the first day and Francis had come in late.  America was happy with him, because she tended to butt heads with Kate Bishop, who she would have been lab partners with if her name had been on the attendance list.  Francis didn't mind Kate, though she was probably one of the bossiest people he knew.  There was also Teddy Altman, who was just as friendly as James, but Francis only had one class with Teddy. That was World History and Teddy would rather talk and/or sit next to Billy Kaplan and Kate Bishop.  There was also Tommy Shepard in English, who tended to do a combination of talking too fast and babbling whenever Ms. Romanova asked him a question.  
Francis even liked his teachers.  Wilson was tough, but fair in geometry and tried to intersperse his lesson with little anecdotes.  Biology with Dr. Banner was interesting due to Banner going off on tangents about how he traveled and taught, so he could directly speak about some of things he was talking about.  Ms. Romanova in English was strict, one did not come late to Romanova's class without an excuse from the office.  Coulson with World History was kind of dry and boring, but every so often he would mix it up and do something that Francis hadn't been expecting. He had Chemistry with Pym and the only days that class was interesting was on lab days, but it was a Freshman class, so he had James and Torunn in it.  His favorite was definitely gym class with Odinson, who was somehow able to be heard without a whistle when the gym was full of bouncing basketballs and squeaking shoes.

So while Francis would admit he still wasn't happy about the change of schools, he was... adjusting.  This, though, made him want to stop and reevaluate everything.  This being the sight of his father flirting with his teacher/principal.  It made Francis want to quit now, because he knew it would last just long enough for it to blow up in Clint's face.  When that happened, he wouldn't be able to say no to his moping father and they'd move on to another town. Because if Francis knew one thing, it was that Clint Barton was horrible at relationships.  

Francis didn't remember a time that Clint hadn't tried to keep his potential love interests away from Francis.  He knew that his father tried to keep Francis out of his love life until Clint was sure that it wasn't going to blow up in his face. Francis had realized, however, that Clint hadn't believed a relationship wasn't going to fail since Francis was old enough to understand that his father was dating.  There may have been a time before that, when Francis was too young to understand that Clint actually believed that a relationship might last, but Francis couldn't remember it.  He also can't remember remember a time when anything ever stopped his father from trying a new relationship.

Francis glanced over at Mr. Coulson and wanted to sigh, because Francis could recognize that his father was reasonably attractive physically.  There was a chance that Mr. Coulson might be physically attracted to his father, but might also realize that Clint Barton was not someone to romantically pursue.  Francis hoped Coulson was smart enough to realize that. He loved his dad, he really did, but Francis did not need his father dating his teacher.  It was just a bad idea, one that would probably get Francis to agree to moving even faster, because he preferred if his father dated people other than ones he personally had to deal with daily.  Francis did not want to get stuck in the middle.

He waited for the diner to close up and packed up his things as his father finished cleaning up.  When he was done, they hurried out to the car.  It was only there that Francis looked at his father and said, "So... Mr. Coulson, huh?"

"What about him?" his father said, carefully neutral.

"Does he come in often?" Francis asked.

"About twice a week," Clint answered.

Francis hummed, so his father was keeping track of how often Coulson came in.  "You seemed to talk to him a lot."

"Well, he is your teacher," his father replied.

"So you talked about me?" Francis asked.

"A little."

"Then what you'd talk about?"

His father glanced at him, "Does it matter what we talked about?"

"Maybe," Francis replied, before adding, "I mean, you haven't had a date in a while."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Clint asked.

Francis shrugged, "You just seemed to like talking to Mr. Coulson a lot."

"He's a nice guy," Clint defended.

"I don't know, he's kind of dull," Francis said, mostly to see his reaction.

"Maybe because you're sixteen," Clint replied.

"Maybe," Francis agreed.  He hesitated, before adding.  "So, I still don't like it here, but I'm kind of getting used to it."

"I knew you would," Clint said, sounding pleasantly fond of him.

"Yeah, and I guess, staying here for three years wouldn't be so bad," Francis said, catching the tick in his father's jaw.  Francis nodded to himself, message received, his father was hopefully thinking of the next three years instead of the next few months.  Now he just had to hope that Clint would make the right decision and not date Francis' teachers, because Francis would have to see them daily.  His father was smart enough to get the message, so it was possible that he would not do anything stupid, right?

Aw, who was he kidding, Francis was going to be lucky if Clint made it to Christmas without doing something stupid.

*

"Hey," James greeted Francis as he settled into his seat for geometry.  He had a few minutes before the bell would ring to start class, so he was free to chat for a bit.  
"Hey," Francis said.

James shifted in his seat, glancing away, before looking back at Francis, "You, uh, you have any plans for this weekend?"

"Just the usual," Francis replied, because his grades were good and his work was in, so that meant going to the archery with his dad and he was looking forward to that.

"The usual?" James asked.

"Yeah," Francis said, but caught the quick look of disappointment in James' eyes.  "Why?"

"My birthday is Saturday." James explained.

"Oh, well have fun," Francis said, before grabbing his bag to pull out his homework.

"Jeez, you are socially inept, I was seeing if you were free to join my family and some of my friends for pizza," James explained slowly.

Francis glanced up at him, "You were?"

James nodded.

"Really?" Francis asked, surprised.

"Yes," James said.  "You're my friend, I mean you're in half my classes, and yeah..."

"Um, I'd have to check with my dad," Francis said.  "What time?"

"Like six, we're going to Arcade's Pizza and Games," James said.

Francis nodded, "I think I could do that, maybe."  They were usually done with archery by then.  He might be able to swing it, but a birthday party?  Francis had tried to have a couple parties in his life. Most of them had been poorly attended.  He stopped a few years ago and he'd never been invited to one, at least one not held in elementary school when your parents brought cupcakes or cookies.  "I need to check with my dad."

"Yeah, Sure, just let me know tomorrow, okay?" James asked.  "Mom wants a headcount."

"Mom? I thought you lived with your dad," Francis asked, because they had kind of bonded over single fathers.

"I do, but my mom is around, too.  She just, well, she's just not that motherly," James said, frowning.

"She's throwing you a party at a pizza place," Francis said, resting his head on his hand.  "Sounds better than mine."

"Yeah?" James asked, looking over at him.

"Uh, my mom doesn't know what to do with me, neither do my grandparents. Last time they threw me a party, I had to wear a suit and I embarrassed them by using the wrong spoon," Francis said.  "I see them twice a year, one for a week in the summer and then I go to them for Thanksgiving every year."

"They don't swap holidays at all?" James asked.

"Nope, dad has full custody, mom signed papers giving me up," Francis said.  "So now out of courtesy, I go and see them every so often."

"Oh," James said and nodded.  "That sounds... rough?"

"Yeah, dad says it's... culture shock when I go there," Francis said, shaking his head.

"Does he go with?" James asked.

"Not anymore," Francis replied.  "He used to when I was younger, but he stopped going when I turned thirteen.  I think it's better this way, because they really don't like my dad.  Well, at least not my grandparents."

"Harsh," James murmured. Francis nodded his agreement.

"It is," Francis agreed.  "I don't like it when they talk bad about him."

James nodded, "I don't think I'd like it if someone would talk bad about my dad either."

"Please, isn't your dad, like the nicest teacher in this school?" Francis asked.

James huffed, looking away, "Yeah, but..."  He trailed off as the bell rang.  Both their eyes went to Mr. Wilson, who was looking over the class and taking attendance already.

*

"Are you Barton?" a man asked, standing behind Francis.  Francis turned to find one of the teachers standing behind him and Kate Bishop.

"Yeah," Francis said.

"I've been informed that you do archery, that true?"

"Yes," Francis nodded, glancing at Kate.

"I'm Clay Quartermain, I'm in charge of the archery club."

"Archery club?" Francis repeated, because he was had no idea there was such a thing.

Quartermain smiled and Francis realized that it must have shown on his face.  "I take it I could interest you in trying out for the team?"

"Um, yeah, that would be… awesome," Francis decided, nodding his head.

"Excellent," Quartermain said, offering Francis a folder.  "There's some permission slips you'll need to have signed and we're going to need a physical on file, but once you have that done we'll set up a time for you to try out."

"I'll talk to my dad tonight," Francis promised. 

"Good," Quartermain nodded and walked off.  

"Are you any good?" Kate asked.

Francis flashed her a grin, "I'm decent, but I am comparing myself to my father."

"Whatever," Kate said, turning to walk away. "Try not to embarrass yourself, Barton."

*

"So, you can say no to these things if you want to," Francis said, as they drove away from the school.

"That sounds promising," his dad said, softly.

"Well, the first is archery club," Francis replied.

"You like archery," Clint stated, glancing at him.

"Yeah, but it's a club with other people."

"Oh, it's the social aspects that has you worried," Clint teased.

"Yeah, I guess," Francis agreed.

"If you want to join archery club, you join for the season or the rest of the year.  No quitting halfway through."

"I don't have it to do it again next year, do I?"

"Nope, just no quitting halfway.  That goes for every sport or club, you make a commitment, you stand by that commitment."  Clint said.

"That seems kind of rich coming from you," Francis pointed out.

"And I'm trying to be better for my son."

"Fair enough," Francis relented.

"And the second thing?"

"One of the kids in my class asked me to go to their birthday party on Saturday," Francis explained.

"You got invited to a birthday party?"

"Yes," Francis said.

"Well, do you want to go?"

Francis frowned, he'd been thinking about it all day and the truth was, he wasn't sure.  "Kind of, but...  it's a birthday party, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well, you did want a normal life..." Clint pointed out.  "Sounds like a reason for you to go."

"Is that a yes then?" Francis asked.

"What time on Saturday?" 

"Six, I thought we might to the range a little early and..." Francis trailed off, because he probably should be quiet now.

His father chuckled, "Sounds like you do want to go."

"Yeah, but..."

"You can go, Francis," his father said.  "We can go shopping on Friday night, see if we can't find something to give your friend as a gift."

Francis jerked his head to look at his father, suddenly alarmed, "I have to get him a present?!"

"It's a birthday party, that's what you do."

"But... I... I've only ever gone shopping for you and you're easy.  You like anything I get you," Francis pointed out, trying not to panic.  "Or archery stuff, or some kitchen gadget."

"Francis, calm down, we'll figure it out," his father said, calmly.  "You're both teenage boys, I'm sure you can figure something out."

"But I'm not normal," Francis objected and he silently hated his father for laughing at that.

"You're smart though," his father said.  "We'll find something to buy, and if not there's always a gift card to somewhere."

"I thought gift cards were lame?" Francis asked.

"They are, but it's better than nothing," Clint said and Francis could see the logic behind that, because he had no idea what to get another kid.  Maybe a video game, but he didn't know what James already had.  A book? James might like a book.  Francis settled into his seat and debated his options, so he would have an idea of what to look for when they were out.

*

"I don't think I can do this," Francis stated, staring at the theme restaurant.

"Yes, you can," Clint said.

"But…" Francis said.

"I'll walk you in," Clint replied, turning the car off and climbing out.  He headed toward the restaurant, forcing Francis to catch up.  Clint smiled as Francis' complaining met his ears. Clint going in certainly took Francis' mind off his own nerves.  They made it in and had barely entered when:

"Hawkeye!"

Both heads swiveled toward the voice.

"Hey, James," Francis said.  "Happy Birthday."

"Hey, we're in the back room," James said.  "Is that your dad?"

"Yeah, dad, this is James.  James, this is my dad," Francis said.

"Hi, nice to meet you," Clint said, holding out his hand.

"Are you coming, too?" James asked.

"Me? I didn't think I was invited," Clint replied.

"A bunch of my friends' parents are teachers, so they tend to hang out and talk," James said. "You could probably join them."

"I probably don't know any of them."

"Well, then you should meet them," Natasha said, appearing at Clint's side.

"Still as sneaky as ever?" Clint teased.

"Don't change the subject, Clint," Natasha replied.  "Come on, you can socialize, just as much as Francis can."

"You actually know her?" Francis asked.

"Yeah," Clint said, wrapping an arm around Natasha.  "She helped me change your diapers."

"And I hated every minute of it, but your father was horrible at it," Natashas added.  Both boys had nearly identical looks of disgust on their face.  Natasha smirked and handed James a bag.  "Now, there's some tokens to last until Tony gets here.  Go, have fun."

"Yes, ma'am," James said, before looking at Francis. "C'mon."

Clint watched his son trail after his friend and then looked at Natasha.  "So what brings you to a kid's party?"

"James is my biological son," Natasha replied, guiding Clint forward.

"What?" Clint asked.

"Long story, I'll explain later," Natasha said, pulling him into a large room.  There were two tables set up.  One was mostly empty and the other was filled with adults.  Natasha whistled, catching everyone's attention.  "I'd like you all to meet Clint.  He's Francis' father."

"Clint, this is Hank, Thor, Ororo, and Jean," Natasha said, pointing around the table.

"Francis?" the large blond man, Thor maybe, asked.

"Hawkeye," Clint and Natasha said together.

"Ah, an apt nickname, I have him for gym class. He is quite athletic," Thor stated.

"Ah, thanks, " Clint said, as Natasha shoved him toward a chair.

"He's in my Chemistry class," the other man said.  "Doing very well."

"Glad to hear it," Clint said.  "Does he have you two ladies?"

"We don't teach at Shield," the red-head said.  "We're at Xavier School."

"Oh yeah, I think I might have looked at you guys, but…" Clint shook his head.  "I needed Natasha's help for Shield and I didn't know anyone there."

"There was probably something that could have been done, wouldn't there, Jean?" Ororo asked.

"Maybe," Jean said.  "Scott would be the one to ask, not me."

"Scott is?"

"My husband," Jean replied, smiling. "He's the principal at Xavier's."

"And you both teach there?" Clint asked the two women, who nodded.  "So how do you guys all know one another then?"

"I'm married to one of Shield's teachers," Ororo answered.

"Plus, Hank McCoy used to work for Shield," Jean said.  "And he's a good…"

"That name is anathema here, Grey, Hank McCoy is a dirty traitor,"  a new voice said.  Clint turned to find a man in a flashy suit with a well groomed goatee.

"Oh lord, not this again," Natasha muttered.

"Tony," Hank started.

"No, don't Tony, me, Pym," Tony said.  "Hank McCoy had a great job at Shield and he left us to go to our arch-rivals.  He's a traitor and I demand that his name not be uttered in our presence."

"Henry is a good man and while his lost deeply felt," Thor stated,  "we should not banish our friend for returning back to Xavier's."

"Are you trying to use logic on me, Thor, because that shit doesn't fly with me and…" Tony trailed off, eyes landing on Clint.  "Who are you?"

"This is Clint Barton," Natasha said.  "He's an old friend of mine and his son is a friend of James'."

"Well, if James' likes him," Tony said.  "And how do you feel about Xaviers?"

"I sent my kid to Shield?" Clint replied.

"Good choice," Tony replied.  "Where is my godson? I have tokens to buy."

"He isn't your godson, Tony," Natasha stated.

"He might as well be," Tony said.  "I buy him all the cool stuff."

"So long as Steve approves," Natasha replied.

"Well, yeah, the man can look like I killed his puppy if I do something he disapproves of," Tony said, and mock-shuddered.  "So, the children?  Where are they?"

"Playing games," Jean said.

"With what? I only just got here," Tony asked.

"I bought some tokens, because you were late," Natasha explained.  Tony gave her a horrified look, while Natasha simply kept her bland expression in place.

"We're going to have words later, but now, I have kids to spoil," Tony replied, turning and heading out.

"I'll go keep an eye on him," Hank said, standing up and following after him. 

"Is he always like that?" Clint asked.

"No, he probably had way too much coffee this morning," Natasha said.  Jean, Ororo, and Thor nodded.  Clint kind of wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

*

Phil slogged into the diner, exhausted.  Being a school administrator made him hate some holidays.  Christmas and Thanksgiving meant excited and distracted students, but the worst, the worst was Halloween.  There was no break, just him dealing with students that were old enough that they were nearing the end of trick or treating, but young enough that they still wanted to.  Then there were the dress code violations, because Halloween meant teens thinking they could get away with skimpy clothes that were inappropriate. Parents were called, detentions handed out, and by the end of the day the building was empty. Teachers wanting to get home to take their kids out or get home to meet the trick or treaters. The one upside was several elementary students and teachers had shared their bounty of Halloween parties with the office.  He'd also been informed of Natasha's 'Oops, We all Brought Food Today' day in her Russian classes.  High School students weren't supposed to have parties, but he couldn't prevent students from bringing food to share with a class, and if they all brought some on the same day, well so be it.  
Phil's neighborhood wasn't big on kids, so he didn't have to hurry back and a good meal sounded better than anything than he could think of.  Seeing Clint actually seemed like nice treat.  He wasn't expecting to step into the diner and be given an treat of eye candy in the form of Clint's leather clad ass, a dark purple that clung and moved as Clint shifted, leaning over a table to speak to someone.  Phil hoped he didn't make a noise or at least if he did make a noise then the bells above the door tinkling would cover it.

The bells, as Phil had hoped, caught Clint's attention and he turned to smile at Phil over his shoulder, "I'll be with you....  Hey Phil."

"Clint," Phil said, deciding it was best to take a seat now.  He did keep an eye on the other man as he stood and headed over to him.  The costume was in shades of purple, leaving Clint's arms bare except for a strap, which only emphasized the size of Clint's biceps.  "That's quite an... outfit."

"You like?" Clint asked, smiling as he strode around the counter. 

"It's very..."  Sexy, tight, "...Purple?"  Phil tried.

Clint tipped his head back and laughed, "It is."

"Yeah, what are you exactly?" Phil asked.

"I'm the Amazing Hawkeye," Clint said, flexing his arms.

It took Phil a moment to remember everything, but considering the outfit, Phil wasn't too upset.  "Your circus outfit?"

"Yep," Clint said.  "Francis tries to borrow it every year, but as long as it still fits me...."

"He doesn't get it?" Phil asked, glancing over at the young man, who was watching them with interest.

"Exactly," Clint agreed.  "What can I get you?"

"Whatever is on special," Phil replied, because he'd quickly determined that Clint's specials were the best choice.

Clint grinned, "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm an educator, I try and learn fast," Phil replied.  "Your recipes are the best."

Phil watched as Clint swelled a little at the compliment, "Yeah?"

"They are," Phil agreed softly.  Clint ducked his head, turning to the burner, but Phil caught the small pleased look on Clint's face.

"So what are your plans for tonight?" Clint asked as he started cooking.

"Dinner and grading papers," Phil answered.

"Not feeding the trick or treaters?" Clint asked.

"No, there aren't that many in my neighborhood," Phil explained.  Clint's head nodded.

"I have to work, and I have no idea about the neighborhood," Clint said.  "I told Francis he should head home and pass out candy, but..."

"He doesn't want to?" Phil asked.

"Nope," Clint said, shaking his head.  "I'm not going to force him.  He wants to hang out here and as long as he does his schoolwork..."

"And you know he's staying out of trouble," Phil added.

"Yeah," Clint agreed.  "Not that I'm too worried about that.  I have a good kid."

"You do, which makes his record interesting..." Phil said, because he had read Francis' record and he knew that Francis had been expelled for fighting.

"You want the story," Clint said, turning to look at him.

"I'm curious," Phil admitted.

"He made friends with one of the kids that wasn't in the popular crowd and there was a kid that was bullying him.  Francis got into a fight, trying to protect his friend," Clint said.  "So while I'm not happy with him fighting, I'm proud of him for doing what was right."

"Yeah, but if they have a strict no tolerance policy," Phil said, thinking of the Shield's policy.

"And you also have a strict no bullying policy," Clint pointed out, turning to look at him.  "It doesn't matter race, gender, religion, sexual orientation.  No one gets bullied and I wanted that for my son."

"Point," Phil murmured. Surprised, because he hadn't realized that he had a kink for impassioned fathers, but there Clint was.  It was almost surreal, considering the purple leather almost made Clint look like a superhero standing up for truth, justice, and the American way.  Oh god, he had it bad and Phil had no idea what to about that.  He couldn't date the father of one of his students.  He could become friends with Clint, but it wasn't just Clint's good looks that attracted him to Clint.  Clint obviously loved his son and wanted the very best for him.  He had a wicked sense of humor and was downright caring. Friendship was possible, he would just have to control himself.

"Oh, speaking of..." Clint said, turning back around.  "You have any idea why Hill was asking me to stop in?"

"No," Phil said, shaking his head. "I hadn't heard anything."

"Francis hasn't done anything?" Clint asked, glancing at his son.

"Not to my knowledge," Phil said, glancing over there.

"I told you," Francis stated from across the room. 

Clint hummed as he considered the possibility.  "Right, well, I guess I'll just have to stop in when I drop him off in the morning."

"Did she say it was urgent?" Phil asked.

"Just asked that I stop by," Clint replied.

"Not sure," Phil shook his head.  "Sorry."

"It's alright," Clint said, waving off his apology.  "I'm sure you can't know everything that goes on in that school."

"No," Phil agreed.  "Unfortunately not."  Though, he decided, he would have to try and find out himself.  Clint would probably know before him, though, unless there was a way to find out.  Maria tended to notice when he tried to subtly find out information and she'd be curious as to why he was asking about Clint Barton.

*

Clint stepped into the small cafe and inhaled the scent of coffee beans, nectar of the gods, the stuff that kept him going.  It was only after he was finished breathing in the wonderful scent that he actually looked around for Natasha.  She was already seated and watching him with a small smile.  He nodded to her, before getting in line.  Once he had his coffee, he headed over to take a seat across the small table from her.  
"I suppose I should thank you," Clint said, because she'd mentioned Shield Academy and had encouraged him, through the various social media that they kept in touch with, to apply and look for scholarships.  Clint was fairly sure that Natasha was the reason that Fury had granted them hardship, though Clint had undergone a strenuous interview process to get that declared.

"No need, I know you're grateful," Natasha said.  "I'm glad to see that Francis is finally settling in.  He did have fun at James' party?"

"Yeah, though he was a little surprised that I stayed for so long," Clint said.  He'd been expecting to walk Francis in, but Natasha had grabbed him and introduced him to some of the other mothers and fathers, and James' crazy adopted Uncle Tony.  

"I told him I knew you," Natasha said.

"I don't think he believed you," Clint replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Neither do I," Natasha smiled.

"So, James?" Clint asked, curious, because he never thought Natasha would have children and still had a hard time picturing it. He was fairly sure she'd sworn them off, watching Clint try to take care of Francis' in that first year, before they'd gone their separate ways.

"You remember Barnes?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah, the townie from New York that liked to challenge me to all the sharpshooting games," Clint said.

"Well, you know we were a thing, right?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," Clint agreed.  "Is that Barnes' kid?"

"I... I don't know," Natasha said, shaking her head.  "It's possible that James is and it's possible that James' biological father is the same as his father."

"Steve Rogers?" Clint asked, eyes narrowed.  He'd met Steve at the party and hadn't recognized him, but he had been the skinny blond shadow of Barnes. Since then, he'd put on several itches and had filled out completely.

"Yes," Natasha said.  "The night before Bucky shipped out, we got a little tipsy, the three of us and..."

"Oh," Clint said.

"Yeah, so cut to a month later and I realize I'm pregnant. I was planning on aborting, I didn't have any money, I couldn't take care of a kid and I really didn't want a kid, especially not after I saw what you went through," Natasha said, softly.

"So what changed your mind?" Clint asked.

"Bucky was declared MIA, presumed dead," Natasha said softly.  "Steve kne. He was planning on taking me to the abortion clinic, and being my moral support.  I was his best friend's girl."

"So?"

"Before my appointment, Steve said he had to ask this or he'd forever regret not asking this," Natasha started, she paused as she considered it all. "He asked me, if I would consider carrying the baby to term.  The baby was either his or Bucky's and if it was his, he'd like a chance to raise his son, and if it was Bucky's then he really wanted a chance to take care of his friend's son."

"So you did?" Clint asked.

"I didn't agree right away, I had a lot of questions and he had enough answers that I agreed to delay until he could get more answers," Natasha said, shaking her head.  "He is the most stubborn, considerate man I know.  He really wanted this, but he also recognized that this was my body and he didn't have a right to prevent me from doing anything.  We did a lot of talking, a lot of planning, and ultimately, I agreed to it."

"So you have a son," Clint said, thinking of the boy he'd met the other day.

"I do, and Steve does most of the work, but I'm there.  James knows he can come to me for anything, but I'm not cut out to be a full-time mother," Natasha said. "Our relationship has gotten better the older he's gotten.  I don't relate well to children, but..."

"He's turning into a young man right before your eyes," Clint finished.  "And you're left wondering where the time has gone."

"More or less," Natasha agreed.

"So you and Steve?" Clint asked.You

"Painfully platonic," Natasha replied.  "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Anyone special?" Natasha asked, eyes glinting in amusement.

"No," Clint denied, quickly.  There was no one special, despite Clint's interest.  There was nothing there, beyond maybe friendship and even then Clint wasn't sure of that. 

Natasha's eyes narrowed as she studied him, "But there's someone you're interested in."

Clint made a face, he'd forgotten how well Natasha could read him, causing her to laugh.  He glanced out the window, before reluctantly admitting, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Natasha repeated.

Clint sighed, "It's nothing that can happen. I... I haven't gotten any better at dating, so...  I think its best not to date, while Francis is in school.  I promised him we'd stay in one place."

"Really?" Natasha asked.

Clint nodded.

"That's such bullshit, Clint," Natasha stated. "Be an adult and learn how to handle a bad break up."

"It's not that simple," Clint objected.  "Francis would..."

"Francis would what?" Natasha asked, staring at him.

"It's just three years, Natasha, I can wait.  Francis will be in college," Clint said.

Her eyes widened and Clint wished he knew exactly what he did to give things away to her.  She was far too perceptive.  "You're interested in someone at the school!"  Far too perceptive.

"Yes," Clint admitted.  "And Francis doesn't need to deal with his dad dating someone at the school, and then when something goes bad, which it will, he doesn't need to deal with the fall out.  He'd be stuck in the middle and I don't want to do that to my son."

"That's assuming something will go wrong."

"I'm involved," Clint pointed out.  "Something always goes wrong."

"Not always," Natasha said.

"Yeah, name one thing?" Clint said, daring her.

"And if I can?" Natasha asked.

"You can't," Clint stated.

"If I can," Natasha replied.  "I get to set you up on a date."

"Fine, and if you can't, you have to drop it until Francis graduates," Clint said.  "Let's say three tries."

"Deal," Natasha said, extending her hand.  Clint reached out and shook it.

"So, lay it on me?"

Natasha smiled, "The Circus."

"Uh, I got beat up, and ended up in the hospital.  That's how I met you, remember?"

"I remember," Natasha said.  "Budapest."

"Yeah, that went very differently for each of us, it didn't end well in either case," Clint pointed out.  "It's like you're not even trying."

"Maybe, I only need one," Natasha said.

"Yeah, and what is this one?" Clint asked, suddenly nervous.  Natasha was too calm.

Natasha smirked as she leaned in, looking smug, and whispered, "Francis."

*

"He's holding it wrong," Kate's voice drifted from over where she and the rest of the archery club were standing with Quartermain.  Francis ignored them, he was too nervous to try pulling off any of his father's usual tricks.  So he lined up his shot and took it, watching as the imbedded itself into the the target, slightly off the bullseye.

"Pretty good," Dani said. She was one of the students from Xavier. They didn't have an archery club and apparently there was an agreement that Dani could compete with them.

"I can do better," Kate stated.  James had filled him in and apparently Kate was a superstar in the archery world.  Just a freshman and she had broken a lot of local records, this year she was expected to be even better.  Apparently, even the archery club at Shield Academy was here because of Kate.  Her father had made a hefty donation to the school, paying more than enough for the archery club.  The only reason she wasn't captain of the team was because Quartermain was pushing her harder than any of the other members.

Francis didn't say anything, just pulled another arrow.  This one was a bullseye.  He filed four more arrows, each one finding  the center ring.

"Better?" Francis asked, turning to look at the team.

"Wow," one of the other archers, (Pam?) said.  Quartermain looked impressed, but Kate did not.  "I guess there's a reason he's called Hawkeye."

"This team already has a Hawkeye," Kate snapped. Francis' eyes widened and he realized that he might have unintentionally been pushing her away.  She was quiet, before she looked at him.  "I thought you said you were decent."

"Well, compared to my dad, I am," Francis admitted.

"Your dad?"

"Haven't beaten him yet unless he was letting me win," Francis said.

Kate stared at him for a long moment.

"Well, let's do a few more rounds, but I think we can find a place for you," Quartermain said.

"We're not calling you Hawkeye, though," Kate stated.

"We'll fight about nicknames later, Kate," Dani said.  "Right now, it's time to practice."

"Dani's right, let's get to work," Quartermain agreed, casting Dani a considering look.  He encouraged them to get back and Francis turned back to the targets.

*

Natasha didn't make bets that she couldn't win, so of course, she'd won that bet with Clint.  Francis was the one thing he'd done right and even if Francis' birth had created chaos in Clint's life, he would never say that there was anything wrong with that.  Francis was the one good thing in his father's life and Natasha knew that.  So now, she was going to be able to set him up on a date, anyone she wanted.  Though she'd prefer to set him up with whoever he was already interested in, since he really did seem so smitten.  
There was a problem, though. Clint wasn't giving any more clues about where he'd met this mystery person and who this person was exactly.  She went over the staff directory and tried to figure out who he'd met.  He wasn't around the school, wasn't signed up for any committees (though that was going to change since Maria had pointed out that Shield Academy encouraged parents to be involved as well as students). He had to have met them outside of the school, but she wasn't sure where.  Jasper was the master of finding the best restaurants and Clint was cooking in one, that made him a possibility.  Tony was interested in all things mechanical, so they could have met at the garage or someplace else and started talking shop. Steve was also interested in motorcycles, but Clint hadn't reacted to Steve at the party at all and Natasha had a feeling that Clint had met this person before James' party. Maria?  No, those two would be at odds in a week. Even if Clint was smitten with her, it wouldn't last, and Natasha could not in good conscious do that to either of them.  Maybe one of Francis' other teachers? Hopefully, Clint had fallen for one of the single ones, because while she loved Clint,  he was foolish enough to fall in love with someone who was happily married. None of them stood out.  So Natasha was left to try and figure it out.

The good thing was that Clint had to volunteer more at the school when he had time, since Maria had reminded him of that.  Natasha had no problems getting Clint involved in whatever she was involved with.  So when she had a parent call off about doing concessions at the last football game of the years, she called Clint.  Francis could sit with some of his other friends, since James had to sit with the JV squad during the Varsity game.  Clint and Natasha were able to watch the JV game before heading to the concessions building and taking over for the varsity parents.

The night was going well and Natasha was happy to see that they had plenty of hot chocolate and coffee for the cold night.  Clint was an amazing help, but considering he was running a restaurant as his job, she wasn't too surprised.  What did the surprise her was Clint's unexpectedly soft, "Hey."  She knew that tone, she'd heard it years ago when they'd been together, before when he'd spoken to Bobbi and when he'd talked about her. It was such a surprise that she twisted immediately to look at him.

Yes, his smile was softer and he was staring, not overtly, but she could see his eyes moving as he took everything in and enjoyed it.  She followed his line of sight and found him talking to…

Coulson.

_Coulson?!_

Yes, that was Phil Coulson, Vice-Principal and History teacher, looking at Clint with what she thought was just as much admiration as Clint was looking at him.  Her eyes narrowed and yes, it certainly was Phil that Clint was interested in.  They were both oblivious to everything but each other.  Natasha couldn't help but smile at that though. She could work with this, she'd need help, but she knew who to ask for it.

On Monday, Natasha got up early and made two extra stops before entering the school, far earlier than most.  Coulson and Hill were still absent, but Sitwell was there already manning his desk.

She placed his ridiculously fancy coffee on his desk along with his favorite roll from the little bakery a town over.  She watched as Jasper glanced sideways at the treat, before looking up at her.  She could read the surprise in his eyes.  

Everyone knew the best way to get Jasper to do you a favor was with foodstuffs, the bigger the favor, the better the foodstuffs had to be.  Natasha didn't ask for favors, she didn't look for Jasper's help. Mostly because she liked to handle her own problems.

She smiled, and said, "We should do lunch."

Jasper regarded her, as he reached for the coffee and took a sip.  His eyes widened at the taste, before narrowing as he realized that she was going to be asking for something big.  "Your treat?"

"Depends on if you'll help me with a project," Natasha replied.

"What project?" Jasper asked.

"We can discuss it over lunch," Natasha said.  She didn't want to discuss it here where someone might overhear.

Jasper took another sip of his coffee, "I suppose I can take my lunch during yours today."

Natasha nodded, "Thank you, Jasper."

*

"You want to do what?" Jasper exclaimed.

"I want to try to set them up," Natasha repeated calmly.

"I don't matchmake," Jasper said.  "Especially with people I don't know and especially with Phil."

"But I think they just need a little nudging, Phil seemed… interested," Natasha argued.

"No," Jasper said, shaking his head.  "Not unless I can see them together."

Natasha's eyes narrowed as she considered it, before nodding, "Are you going to Tony's Thanksgiving thing?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Jasper replied.

"Phil?"

"I believe he's planning on it," Jasper said.

"Francis visits his grandparents for Thanksgiving.  I'll drag Clint with me," Natasha decided.  "You can make your own call."

"And what about Fury?" Jasper asked.

"What about him?"

"How do you think he'd feel about one of his teachers dating a parent?"

"Do you really think that Phil would let his feelings toward Clint get in the way of doing his job?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No," Jasper admitted.  "He probably wouldn't."

"Then its settled," Natasha said.  "Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving," Jasper agreed.  "But you're still paying for today, right?"

"Right," Natasha agreed, smiling.  Part one of her plan was underway.

*

"Ms. Romanova, what can I do for you?" Fury asked, looking up from his work.  Natasha slipped in, moving to take a seat.

"I just wanted to double check some rules," Natasha answered.

"What rules?"

"Can a teacher date a parent?" Natasha asked.

Fury gave her a long look.  "Is there someone you're interested in?"

"No," Natasha said, shaking her head.

"Then why are you asking?"

"For Phil," Natasha replied.

Fury's eyebrows shot up as he regarded her.  "Phil? Phil Coulson?"

Natasha nodded.  "He's was making eyes at my friend and my friend was making eyes right back, though neither of them seemed to realize it."

"Your friend?" Fury repeated. "Barton?"

Natasha nodded.  "I don't know how it happened or where, but I know what I saw.  I just need to make sure I'm not encouraging something that will cost Coulson his job."

"Phil, Phil, I can trust to make the right call," Nick replied. He paused, before asking. "You sure about this?"

"Completely," Natasha said.  "I actually asked Jasper for a favor."

Nick nodded.  "This better not blow up in Phil's face."

"No guarantees.  Clint likes to self-sabotage," Natasha explained.  "But I think Phil would be good for Clint and vice versa."

"Alright," Fury said.  "No blessing, but I'll trust your judgment."

"Thank you," Natasha said. "Jasper needs to see it for himself."

"Of course, he does," Fury replied. "It's Sitwell, he has to see things to believe them."

Natasha smiled at that.  "He's a good man."

"Great man, just needs to see things for himself," Fury said.  "Not a bad trait."

*

Phil was grateful that Jasper hadn't ever been to the diner that Clint worked at.  It made it easier for Phil to surprise Jasper with a slice of homemade Sweet Potato Pecan Pie.  He'd actually asked Clint to make it special, since he had a favor to ask the other man.  It was the same yearly request, one that Jasper simply refused to do, but Phil was determined to talk Jasper into it.  
He waited until lunch time, before bringing a slice of the pie to Jasper and setting it on Jasper's desk. 

"Is this the annual attempt at bribery?" Jasper asked, looking at him disdainfully.  "Pie, Phil?"

"It's good pie," Phil stated.  "Try it."

Jasper sighed, looking at him, "By trying this pie, I make no agreement to actually do this thing you want me to do."

"I know," Phil said.

Jasper regarded him, before taking a bite of the pie.  Coulson smiled at Jasper's 'OMG This fucking amazing' face that suddenly appeared.  Jasper swallowed and regarded him.

"Where did you get that?" Jasper asked.

"My secret," Phil replied.  "Though I have the rest of the pie, if you want it."

Jasper glared.

"One date, Jasper, one," Phil held his finger up.  "I think you and Melinda would get along great."

Jasper calmly cut another bite of the pie and ate it as he watched Phil.  "And I get the rest of the pie?"

"Of course," Phil said.

"And the place where you go it?" Jasper requested.

"No, because I might want to bribe you again," Phil said.

"Then..." Jasper said slowly, "I get you to set you up."

"What?" Phil asked, laughing slightly, before he realized that Jasper was serious.  "With who?"

"With someone of my choosing," Jasper replied.

"You've never shown any interest in setting me up before," Phil pointed out.

"I want the pie," Jasper replied.  "But its not worth being set up on a blind date with... Belinda?"

"Melinda," Phil corrected automatically as he considered his options.  He did think that Jasper and Melinda would make a cute couple, if only he could talk them into meeting.  Melinda came to visit for a few days every year and every year he tried to set them up, Jasper patently refused to be set up.  He thought the pie might do the trick, and apparently Jasper was relenting enough to agree to it.

"Alright," Phil said.  "One blind date for each of us."

"Not together though," Jasper clarified.  "And I get the pie."

"And you get the pie," Phil agreed, extending his hand.

Jasper smiled, before turning back the computer.  "Let me know when and where."

"I will," Phil said.  "I really think you two will get along."

Jasper hummed noncommittally.  

"Besides, an actual date is better than you hoping that Maria will notice that you're keeping the candy jar stocked with her favorites," Phil pointed out, glancing at said candy jar.  

Jasper's head snapped to glare at him.

"Right, sorry, not talking about that," Phil said, backing away.  "Let me grab your pie."  Phil retreated to go and get the pie.

*

Jasper waited for Phil to leave, before finishing the slice of pie.  He glanced at the candy jar and was willing to admit that just maybe it was stocked with Maria's favorites, but who didn't like swedish fish or sour patch kids. Jasper just couldn't indulge in having M&Ms out, he didn't trust the students, despite how well behaved they were.  Jasper sighed, Phil probably did have a point. It's not like Maria was interested in him beyond friend and coworker.  He just hoped that Melinda liked good food.

Still, Jasper thought as he opened his email program, he supposed that it was alright if he had one dinner at someplace with horrible food. Considering he was getting pie from Phil for going on the date and Natasha had promised half of the Christmas fudge that Clint gave to her every year along with a gift certificate to a place of his choosing, if he could get Coulson on board, he was still coming out ahead. He couldn't deny the looks, the careful conversation that Phil and Clint had shared at Thanksgiving or how they tended to seek one another out as they all had gone from room to room, but were ever so careful not to sit next to one another.  He had to agree with Natasha's assessment, so much so that he'd actually gone home and pulled up every employee handbook and gone over it to see if Phil could get in any type of trouble.  He wasn't about to admit to Natasha how invested he'd become with this.

Jasper could go on one date with Melinda, it wouldn't be the end of the world, and at least Phil would stop bugging him about it.  He typed Natasha's name into the to the box and selected her email. In the subject line, he wrote: You Owe Me.  He smiled as he considered the message, it wasn't likely that Phil would hack his email.  That was more Stark's domain.  So he decided to keep it vague, 'I really like the Indian Place on 8th.'

"Do I want to know why you're smiling like that?" Phil asked.  

Jasper quickly hit send and turned to look at him.  "No reason."  Judging by the suspicious look he was being given, Jasper decided it was best that he'd kept it vague.  Phil didn't need to know that Jasper actually had ulterior motives.

*

Phil smiled as he hung up with Melinda, he was looking forward to her visit.  The best part was that she'd been slightly easier to agree to the date with Jasper.   Jasper leaned in and Phil smiled at him, "Hey, I was just talking about you."

"No wonder my ears were burning," Jasper replied, drolly.  "I've got the files you were looking for."

"Thanks," Phil said, as Jasper set the files down.

Jasper hesitated, "I'm guessing that was Melinda?"

"Yes, she'll be in town next Wednesday, so I hope Saturday is good for you?" Phil asked.

Jasper considered, "Yeah that'll work.  So what will you be doing while we're out?"

"Not sure," Phil said.  "I haven't made any plans yet."

"No?" Jasper asked.

"Nope," Phil said.

"Well, considered yourself booked," Jasper said, before turning to leave.

"What?" Phil asked.

"You agreed to let me set you up, remember," Jasper pointed out.

"Yeah," Phil said.  "Wait, you already found someone?"

"Yep," Jasper replied, giving him a smug look.

"Who?"

"Where'd you get the pie, Phil?" Jasper asked.

"That's my secret," Phil said.

"So's the name of your date," Jasper said, going to step back into the main hall.  

Phil stared after him, before it dawned on him, "You were planning on this all along!"

Jasper's laugh echoed back.

*

Clint smiled as Natasha stepped into the diner and he gave her a little nod of the head.  Natasha smiled back as she glanced around, no doubt noting his son in the corner booth, working on some of his homework.  As soon as Clint was able to, he wandered over to where she'd taken a seat.  
"Hey, what's up?" Clint asked.

"I'm calling in my marker," Natasha said, watching him.

"Already?!" Clint exclaimed, surprised that Natasha had found someone that fast.

Natasha smiled and nodded, "Saturday 6 pm at the place that does Fondue on Main."

"This Saturday?" Clint asked.  He wished he could say there was something going on, but there wasn't.

Natasha nodded, "I already made reservations for you."

"Okay," Clint said, because a bet was a bet.  "What's my date's name?"

"Also a surprise," Natasha replied.

"How will I know they're my date then?" Clint asked.

"You'll know," Natasha replied, looking like the cat that got the canary and managed to blame it on dog.

Clint swallowed at that look, almost feeling like the canary.

"Date?" Francis asked, suddenly.  "What date?"

"Tasha is setting me up on a date," Clint explained.

Francis' eyes darted back and forth between them, before settling on Clint, "I thought we agreed no dating."

"Lost a bet," Clint replied, with a shrug.  "It's one date, probably nothing is going to come of it."

"That's what you said when I was in seventh grade and we ended up moving halfway through the school year," Francis pointed out.

"Well, Jess was..." Clint trailed off and tried to think of an apt descriptor for his ex.

"Don't care, all I know is that it ended badly, and we left again," Francis cut him off.  "Don't really want to go through that.  You promised!"

"I know," Clint said, glancing at Natasha for help.  "I forgot you don't bet against Natasha, I'm sorry.  It's one date."

Francis glared, before getting up and starting to gather up his things.

"Francis," Clint pleaded.

"I'm going home," Francis said.  "I don't want to hear this.  I finally start making friends again and now you're going to ruin it."

"I'm not going to ruin it," Clint stated, but it sounded weak to his own ears.  He knew his history and his son was probably right not to believe that.  He watched as Francis tossed his bag over his shoulder and headed out.  "Francis!"

"I'll go talk to him," Natasha said, sliding off the stool.  She paused, "Wear something nice on Saturday.  In fact, text me what you're wearing."

"There was no part of this agreement that said, you get to decide what I wear on the date," Clint argued.

"You should look nice Clint, it's a nice place," Natasha replied as she went to leave.  She paused in the doorway as it was blocked by Phil. Clint couldn't see Natasha's expression, but he caught Phil's look of surprise.

"Natasha," Phil said smoothly.

"Phil," Natasha replied as Phil stepped out of the way to let her pass.  Phil came the rest of the way in the diner and gave Clint a curious expression.

"Did I see Francis storming down the street?" Phil asked as he settled on his usual stool.

"Yeah," Clint admitted.  "I pissed him off."

"What'd you do?" Phil asked.

"It's.... complicated," Clint said, shaking his head.  "The special?"

"Please," Phil agreed with a nod.  

*

"Francis Barton," Natasha called after him.  The teen paused to look at her.

"Ms. Romanova," Francis said, slowly.

"Let me give you a lift home," Natasha offered.

"I can do it myself," Francis replied.

"I know, but let me give you a lift," Natasha insisted.   She could see him hesitating and maybe if the icy-cold December rain (which had been threatening to fall all day), hadn't started falling _right at that moment_ , Francis would have turned her down. Instead, Francis huffed and nodded.  Natasha led him to her car and he climbed in, glaring sullenly out the window.  She let him stew for a bit.

"I know, you want to lecture me about my outburst," Francis said.  "Why don't you just get it over with?"

"Tell me Francis, what do you think your father is going to do when you go to college?" Natasha asked.

"I'm not..." Francis started, but fell silent when she arched an eyebrow at him.  "...I don't know."

"Francis, for the last sixteen years, Clint has lived for you, to take care of you, and make sure you wanted for nothing," Natasha said.  "In less than three years, you won't be here."

"Dad will probably follow me to whatever town I go to and get a job there," Francis pointed out, because he couldn't imagine Clint staying here.

"Maybe," Natasha said.  "Or maybe, he'll start traveling again, adrift, because he has lived for a son that has grown up, and no longer needs him."

"He wouldn't disappear on me," Francis said.

"No, he will call, email, text," Natasha agreed.  "You will have a different city to visit on your breaks."

Francis frowned at the idea.

"Or...  Clint will meet someone, he will make a home for himself and for you to return to," Natasha said.  She could see Francis considering the idea.

"But that won't happen, he'll..." Francis began.

"Sabotage the relationship," Natasha finished for him.  "It has been a few years, but Clint hasn't changed much. He still would rather leave someone, because its less painful than if they left him.  I know your father, Francis, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that he doesn't sabotage himself or at the very least, I will ensure he doesn't run."

"So we'll stay here no matter what?" Francis asked.

Natasha nodded, "That I will promise you.  If the relationship ends in disaster, I will make sure he stays and acts like an adult."

"I still don't like this," Francis said.  "But I don't think I can convince you to change your mind about it."

"You can't," Natasha ensured.  "If you'd like, I'm sure James would love to hang out on Saturday.  Isn't the new Lord of the Rings coming out."

"Yeah," Francis said.

"My treat," Natasha offered.

"You're bribing me," Francis replied.

"I am," Natasha agreed.

"Alright," Francis sighed, "I might as well as get something out of it.  Do we get pizza, too?"

"Sure," Natasha agreed with a smile.  "You can even invite Torunn and Azari."

"No Pym?" Francis asked.

"Only if you want one of his parents tagging along," Natasha said, unable to hold back the laugh at look on Francis' face.

*

"No tie," Natasha said, long legs crossed as she watched Clint get ready.  Clint glanced over his shoulder at her and then over his other at Francis, who was laying on the bed, watching the events with his head hanging over the edge.  
"You don't like ties, you'd only be fidgeting with it, every time you got nervous," Francis pointed out.

Clint arched an eyebrow at his son and judging from how Francis looks between him and Natasha, he must be getting another raised eyebrow from her.

"You know, that's kind of creepy," Francis said, as he placed his hands on the floor.  "But yeah, it's totally a nervous tell you have when you wear ties, but not when you don't."

"Right," Clint said, before looking over at Natasha and holding his arms out.  He had on black pants and a dark blue, almost black shirt.  He reached up to fiddle with his hair.  "I need a haircut."

"Little late for that," Francis noted.  "Slick it back?"

"Guess I'll have to," Clint said at Natasha's approving nod.  He stepped out of the room to do that, before returning to the bedroom.  "Good?"

"You need a jacket," Natasha said, gesturing to the closet.  Clint sighed and turned to pull out the two jackets he owned. He'd only pulled out one, when Natasha said,  "Where'd you get that one?"

"Goodwill, had to fix a seam in the lining," Clint said, not bothering to grab the other and pull that one on.  "Good?"

Natasha considered, "Definite DILF."

"Oh, ew!!" Francis said, rolling over.  "That is shit I do not want to hear, EVER!!"

Clint laughed at Francis' disgusted face that he caught, before Francis rolled over and kicked his legs over and straightened himself out of the backbend. 

"I'm out of here."

Clint glanced over to find Natasha giving him a questioning look.  "He took a couple of tumbling classes and does archery.  Why are you surprised?"

"Just didn't expect him to do that," Natasha replied.

"So I look alright?" Clint asked, ducking his head.

"Yes," Natasha said, after a moment of studying him.  "You do clean up nice."

Clint glanced at the clock, before nodding to himself, "I should probably go then?"

"You should," Natasha agreed.  "You don't want to be late."

Clint nodded, and took a few steps to leave the room.  He paused in the doorway, leaning back in, "Thanks for smoothing things over with Francis."

"Just don't mess this up," Natasha said, smiling at him.

Clint gave her a quick grin, before heading out.  He paused to ruffle Francis' hair and tell him to behave himself.  Francis glared and started fixing his hair, allowing Clint to leave.  

The drive to the restaurant was an easy one, and snow was finally falling instead of the rain that froze overnight and left the roads slick.  Clint didn't have to hurry in; the cold air gave him a chance to breathe, and let him focus on something besides his nerves. He went up the hostess and smiled, "Hi, I have reservation."

"Sure what's the name under?" the hostess said, smiling.

"CP Smith," Clint said, wanting to roll his eyes at Natasha's little game.  "Party of two."

"Oh, you're here, good," the hostess smiled at him.  "Your other party member is waiting for you."

"Great," Clint said, following the hostess.  She stepped around a separating wall and Clint froze as he met a pair of familiar blue eyes.  "Phil..." he breathed out softly.  He couldn't help but let his eyes drop to see the collar of Phil's shirt, normally done up but now open far enough that Clint could make out the chest hairs.

"Clint?" Phil said, sounding confused. A quick glance revealed he looked just like he sounded and maybe a little upset. "What are you doing here?"

"I... Natasha set me up on a date," Clint admitted.  "Blind date."

"CP Smith?" Phil asked.

"Yeah," Clint said, ducking his head.  "I guess."

"Jasper," Phil growled, causing Clint to look back up.

"I... do you want me to go?" Clint asked.

"Your dinner is already paid for," the hostess said.  "Your matchmaker said she didn't want you to have to figure out who would pay."

Clint glanced questioningly at Phil, because if Phil didn't want this, Clint could go.

"Sit," Phil said, waving him down.  Clint gratefully took a seat across from the other man. The hostess left them with their menus, which Clint gratefully hid behind until Phil cleared his throat.  "I, uh, wasn't expecting you."

"Likewise," Clint said, but he knew that Natasha had seen them together at Thanksgiving, so maybe he should have.  Natasha was crazy intuitive when it came to him.  "Is that alight?"

"Yes," Phil said, "Though it does explain Jasper's text to me saying that he would never do anything that would threaten my career."

"Would it?" Clint asked.

"No, though I might, to ensure that no questions my impartiality, have Francis moved to another teacher at the end of the semester," Phil said.  "That's assuming this goes beyond one date of course."  He gave Clint a nervous smile, which actually settled Clint's nerves.  Nerves meant he cared and didn't want to mess this up, right?

"I think Francis would be understanding," Clint said, nodding.

"Do you?" Phil asked.

"I'll have Natasha talk to him, apparently they've bonded, which may not be a good thing for me," Clint answered. "So, uh, how does this work?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do we each order something or should we agree on it?"

"Probably best for us to agree," Phil said.  "They don't give us much, four courses alright with you?"

"Natasha is paying," Clint replied, grinning wickedly.

Phil chuckled, "Four course it is then, starting with the Cheese Course"

"Sounds like a plan, we'll have to get the premium dippers," Clint said.

"Well, Natasha is paying," Phil agreed.

"The Fiesta and the Cheddar," Clint admitted.  He glanced up at Phil, "You feeling spicy today?"

"I could use spice in my life," Phil said.  "Fiesta?"

"Fiesta," Clint agreed with a firm nod.

"You can choose your own salad," Phil said.  Clint glanced up to catch the amused the smile.

"Any suggestions?" Clint asked.

"Not really," Phil shook his head.  "I'm not much of a salad person."

"I'm aware of that," Clint said, teasingly.  "Well, I suppose the Spinach Mushroom does have bacon."

"If that's your deciding factor," Phil smiled at him.  "I think I'm going to go with the Californian."

"That sounds good, too," Clint said.

"So the main course?" Phil asked.

"Yeah," Clint said.  "I think its your turn to narrow it down."

"Well, you haven't done this, so..." Phil trailed off for a long moment.  "The Classic, Fondue fusion, and Fondue Delight have the most options."

Clint hummed as he read the list over, "Any of them you prefer?"

"I narrowed it down," Phil said.  "That was the task you gave me."

"But I only gave you two options, lose one," Clint argued.

"Or we can say you gave me three and I still chose the Fiesta," Phil challenged.

Clint sighed, "Fine, let's do the Fondue Fusion then."

"Sounds good to me," Phil agreed.

They must have timed it right, because the server appeared to ask for their drinks.  Clint flipped his menu over to skim the drinks and was pleasantly surprised when Phil ordered a beer from the craft section.  Clint echoed his choice, though he didn't choose the exact same brew.  

"Can we place our order now?" Phil asked.

"Sure," the waitress said, before rattling it off.

"And the dessert?" the waitress asked.

"Uh, we haven't decided on that," Clint said, glancing at that section.

"We'll figure it out," Phil said.

"I'd kind of actually like to see the Yin Yang, but some of this stuff sounds like it would taste better," Clint said, looking over at him.

"Which ones?" Phil asked.

"The Original, S'mores, and the Cookies and Cream," Clint replied.

"Lose one, you're only supposed to give me two," Phil teased.

"No," Clint said.  "That didn't work for me last time."

"Alright," Phil relented with a small smile, "Peanut Butter or Dark Chocolate."

"So the Classic or the Cookies and Cream?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Phil said. "Let's go with the Classic?"

"Sounds good," Clint said.  "Peanut Butter and Chocolate, best combo ever or bestest combo ever?"

Phil laughed, "You sound like one of my students.  Bestest."

"I hang out with your one of students an awful lot," Clint pointed out.

"You're really close to Francis then?" Phil asked.

"Yeah, I mean, it was just us for a long time," Clint said.  "We moved a lot, and..."

"You bonded," Phil finished.  Clint nodded.  "I'm kind of curious, how you got roped into this, you don't seem like the type that would need to be set up with someone?"

Clint hesitated, "I don't, but I made a bet with Tasha and I shouldn't have, because Tasha only bets when she'll win."

"Does she really?" Phil asked.  "Then why would you bet with her?"

"Because I forgot that fact, because I haven't seen her in years," Clint said, shaking his head.  "What about you? How'd you get roped into this?"

"I've been trying to set up Jasper with another friend of mine.  He finally agreed, so long as he could set me up," Phil answered.  "I, honestly, wasn't expecting him to set me up so soon."

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me if Natasha decided to recruit his help," Clint admitted, leaning back in the booth.

"You think Natasha is the mastermind behind this?" Phil said.  He tilted his head, "Why would she want to set me up with you though?"

Clint hesitated at that and glanced away with a blush.  He wasn't sure how to answer that one, since he realized that it was probably his fault that they were on this date.  "It's possible, we made the bet back in October and..."

"And?" Phil asked.

"And, it's no accident that she would have set you up with me," Clint said, looking away.  "She's always been able read me really well."  Phil was silent and when Clint glanced back at him, he found Phil staring.  Clint forced a laugh, "And now I'm going to lose my best customer."  He scratched at his jaw, "Sorry."

"Don't be," Phil said and Clint watched him swallow.  "Jasper would never have involved himself, if he didn't think he saw what Natasha thinks she saw."

"Natasha doesn't think..." Clint started.

"She does," Phil interrupted.  "As far as I'm concerned, she thinks she saw something and now it's up to us to decide if there is actually something."

Clint smiled at that.  "That works for me."

Their drinks arrived and Clint put in the order for their dessert.  The waitress nodded, before slipping away.  Clint took an eager pull of his beer, because the last conversation was a bit embarrassing to admit to.

"So," Phil started.  "I know you're an archer, any other hobbies?"

"That's pretty much it," Clint said.  "Though I would consider the cooking a hobby, but I seem to be paying my bills with that."

"And working as a mechanic?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded, "Yeah, that's mainly to earn a little extra money and to help pay the bill for Shield Academy next year."

Phil nodded, "Shield can be expensive, there are scholarships."

"Yeah, which I will fill out on time next year, but I ran into Natasha too late for that this year," Clint admitted.

"Francis is a very bright young man, there's no reason for him not to get a scholarship," Phil said.

"Yeah, I hope so," Clint said, leaning back.  "I... I want him to have a better life than mine."

"Has your life been that bad?" Phil asked.

"My parents died when I was eight, and I ran away to join the circus when I was twelve.  Francis was born when I was seventeen and I couldn't bear the thought of my son being in the system like I was," Clint admitted.  "I think Bobbi knew that when she brought him to me.  I took him, I raised him, and luckily I got my head out of my ass and left the circus, so he could go to school full time."

"Bobbi is his mother?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded.

"She's not on any records?"

"She wouldn't be, she gave up all rights to him."

"But if he visits his grandparents every year and your parents are dead, then...?"

"He sees Bobbi's parents," Clint confirmed with a nod.  "They pay for him to go out to see them twice a year.  I used to go with, but... I think its best for me to stay away."

"That's a shame," Phil said.  "Though I suppose their loss is my gain."

"Your gain?" Clint asked.

"I think I detected your hand in the kitchen at Thanksgiving," Phil replied.

Clint blushed and smiled at that, "You did."

"Definitely my gain," Phil replied, taking a sip of his beer.

"I'm sure Steve would have done a fine job without me," Clint pointed out.

"Probably, but this year's meal was the best yet.  Jasper even commented on it," Phil pointed out.

"Yeah, if he's your friend, how come he never comes in with you?" Clint asked.

"Well, I was planning on telling him, but it never came up, and now I can't," Phil said.

"Why not?" Clint asked.

"Because he loved the Sweet Potato Pecan Pie and I have to hide you, in case I need to bribe him again," Phil explained. 

Clint laughed, "Your bribe him with food?"

"I do," Phil admitted.  "Everyone does!"

Clint shook his head, "So I'm your baking secret?"

"You are," Phil confirmed with a nod.

Clint grinned widely at that, unsure of how exactly to respond. Luckily, he didn't have to as the cheese course arrived.  They dug in and Clint made a soft approving sound.  It was really good.  Phil smiled, but the conversation waned as they ate.  It didn't really stop, but there were a few moments that they were both eating.  Those moments of quiet were hardly uncomfortable and it was clear that neither felt they had to continue the conversation until they were ready.  They discussed Phil's history and Clint was happy to share some of his single dad stories with Phil.

In no time at all the waitress was setting the dessert course in front of them.  Clint happily stuck a piece of fruit in the chocolate and peanut butter before eating it.  He smiled around the mouthful and almost choked when Phil moaned across the table.  Clint's eyes flew open as he took in Phil's look of pleasure.  

"That's really good," Phil commented.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, voice a little rough. He took a sip of his water and watched as Phil fixed himself another bite, then watched as Phil wrapped his lips around the stick and made a happy noise.  Clint could feel himself hardening as the mental image of Phil wrapping those lips around his dick came to mind as he made those same sounds.  He knew he was staring and didn't care as he watched Phil take another bite.

"You okay?" Phil asked, looking at him after he'd swallowed it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Clint said, shaking his head.

"You're not eating," Phil said.  "Do you not like it?"

"I do, I like it, I like it a lot," Clint babbled, grabbing a bite and sticking it in the sauce.  Phil gave him a curious expression and Clint tried to ignore that look and any and all expressions that Phil made while he ate.  

He managed to get himself under control by the time they had finished the meal, double checked to make sure that Natasha had paid for it all, and left a bit for the tip.  Clint tugged his jacket on as he stood and they walked to their cars in silence.

"Did I do something wrong?" Phil asked as they stepped outside.

"What?" Clint asked.

"You went quiet, did I do something wrong?" Phil repeated.

"No, just..." Clint started, before shaking his head.  "It was me."

"You sure?" Phil asked.

"Completely," Clint said.  "Trust me, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Good," Phil said, smiling at him.  "I had a good time."

"I did too," Clint said, coming to a stop behind his car.

"Good enough to maybe do it again some time?" Phil asked, softly, stepping into Clint's space.

"No 'maybe' about it," Clint said.  "I'd, I'd like to go without you again. Maybe a movie and dinner, next Saturday night?"

Phil smiled, "What movie?"

"Well, my kid went to see the new Lord of the Rings without me tonight," Clint said.

"I want to see that," Phil said.  "Sounds like a nice date. You want to meet up or can I pick you up?"

"Let's meet up again," Clint suggested.  "You a before or after the movie dinner man?"

"Well, if we go to dinner after we might be able to catch a matinee," Phil said.

"Man after my own heart," Clint agreed.

"Why don't you check showtimes, lemme know when and where?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded, "I can do that.  I take it that means I still have my best customer."

"You couldn't keep me away," Phil said, leaning forward slightly

"Good," Clint murmured.  He leaned in and pressed his lips against Phil's before he lost his nerve. He heard Phil's soft noise of complaint as he pulled away quickly and leaned back into the kiss.  It was soft and unhurried, the only contact between them were their lips.  Clint wanted more, but the parking lot of a restaraunt was hardly the place for it.  He pulled back, catching Phil's soft smile and returning it with one of his own.  

"Good night, Clint," Phil murmured, stepping away.

"Good night Phil," Clint echoed, watching him walk away for a moment.  He turned and took the few steps so that he could climb into his car and head for home.  He groaned as he realized he was going to have thank Natasha for this and she was going to unbearably smug for a long while.

*

"You look happy," the soft voice stated as Phil entered his apartment.

"Melinda, you're back already?" Phil said, frowning at her. 

"Unfortunately, the waiter spilled wine all over him," Melinda said.  "The poor man tried very hard to continue on, but…  he was damp and it was red wine.  We rescheduled for lunch tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Melinda said, smiling.

"And your thoughts?"

"He's nice.  I can see why you're friends with him," Melinda said.  "He was also felt honor bound to make sure we had a full date."

"Yeah, he, uh, set me up for tonight."

"And it went well."  That was not a question.

Phil nodded, anyway.  "It was a set up with a guy I already and…"

"You've been crushing on him for a while," Melinda finished, smirking at him.

"Pretty much."

"So you had a good time and I had an enjoyable evening," Melinda said.  "I'm not sure if it's a love match.  Long distance relationships are hard."

"I know, but you've been talking about moving back here," Phil pointed out.

"I have," Melinda agreed.  "But I don't have any definitive plans."

"Fair enough," Phli said.  "I thought you'd be good together and I'm glad you've finally at least met."

"At least I'll have someone to keep an eye on you now," Melinda replied.  Phil looked at her, surprised by that.  She was smiling sharply and Phil hadn't considered that.

"Suddenly this doesn't seem like a good idea," Phil stated. Melinda didn't say anything, but he could see small smile on her face.

*  
"Hey," Phil said, pushing the door open to the diner.  He glanced it around and found it remarkably empty, including no Francis, who had become a fixture lately. Phil had surmised that it was due to Francis knowing that Clint and him were dating, if you could call it dating after two dates, but there were plans for another.  
"Hey," Clint greeted, glancing up from cutting up something.  "You're just on time, cheeseburger casserole just came out of the oven."

"Cheeseburger casserole?" Phil repeated, going to take a seat on one of the chairs.  He sniffed the air and it smelled surprisingly good.

"Oh yeah," Clint smiled. Maybe he was dicing? "It's good."

"Surprised Francis isn't around then," Phil said, glancing at the teen's usual corner.

"He's out scouring the neighborhood for a job," Clint replied.

"Why?" Phil asked.

"Because he wants to earn his own money to buy me a Christmas present."

"He said that?" Phil couldn't believe Francis would, because Francis seemed far too concerned with his own image.

"No," Clint said, with a laugh.  "He said he wants to buy stuff, but he doesn't worry about a job after we've moved until my birthday is around the corner or Christmas and then suddenly wants one.  I'm not stupid."

"Does he ever find anything?" Phil asked.

"Well, when he was twelve, he talked the owner of second hand shop to let him sweep the store and the back room for a record for me," Clint said, turning to give Phil a smile.

Phil blinked in surprise, before smiling at the idea, "That's sweet."

"Yeah, he likes to act tough, but he's kind of marshmallow on the inside," Clint replied.

"Just like his dad?" Phil asked, teasingly.

"Maybe, Kinda, yeah," Clint agreed, sprinkling whatever he'd been cutting up over the pan.  "Except, you know I am tough."

"I suppose those muscles aren't for show," Phil agreed. 

"No, they aren't," Clint said with a soft laugh.  He turned offering Phil a plate and the casserole looked cheesy and good.

"It looks good," Phil said, reaching to take it from him.  Clint pulled it out of the way and leaned in. Phil's eyes widened in surprise, before getting on the bandwagon and leaning in to kiss him as well. He hadn't been expecting Clint to do it and it was just a quick little thing, but he smiled as Clint pulled away.

"Here," Clint said, smiling at him.

"Thanks," Phil said, taking it and picking up his fork to dig in.  He paused as he looked down at the top, "Are those pickles?"

"Yes," Clint said, "Try it."

Phil took a bite and he had to admit, it was really good.  He nodded his approval at Clint, who returned it in equal measure.  Clint left him to eat as he busied himself with cleaning the place up.

Phil got down to the last few bites, nicely full.  "Francis is sixteen, isn't he?"

"Yep," Clint said, with a nod.

"So he could apply to some places," Phil suggested.  "Fast food? Library? Grocery Store?"

"I don't want his grades to go down though," Clint said.  "I work."

"He's 16, he can learn to juggle some," Phil replied.  "I think he could handle it."

"I can't see him wanting to work in restaurant that I'm not cooking at," Clint admitted.

"Well, you are the best cook I know," Phil said. "Surprise you don't have your own place."

Clint laughed softly, "I couldn't afford my own place, plus no formal education.  No bank would give me a loan."

"Really?" Phil asked.  "No formal education?"

"Never really cared when I was in the circus and then I became a single parent, there hasn't been time for me to go to school," Clint admitted, biting his lip as he glanced away.

"So what was the last grade you completed?" Phil asked, curious.

"Sixth," Clint admitted, making a face.  "Kinda ditched the last month of seventh, so..."

"Oh," Phil said, frowning.

"Yeah, guess you didn't know you were dating a middle school drop out," Clint said, lifting his chin and looking Phil straight in the eye.

"No," Phil said, gently.  "But I never would have guessed."

"No?" Clint asked, looking confused just for a moment.

"I would have thought you'd gotten your GED along the line somewhere," Phil said.

"No," Clint shook his head.  "Just haven't had time."

"Well, if you ever want to, I can get you in touch with some people and recommend some books," Phil said.  "I'd be happy to help you study."

"You would?"

"Of course," Phil said, smiling at him.  "I want you to be happy."

"If I'm happy without it?" Clint asked, and Phil could read the challenge for what it was.  He wondered how many had laughed at him, made it a point of reminding Clint that he hadn't even gone to High School.

Phil shrugged, "It's your life."

"You're not going to find it beneath you?  I mean you're a High School teacher," Clint said, giving Phil a wary look.

"I'm not going to go out of my way to mention it," Phil said.  "But Clint, we've been on two dates, I'm not going to make any demands, now or later. I just want you to be happy."

"So no pressure to go take classes?" Clint asked.

"Nope," Phil said. "Though I will support you if you choose too."

Clint nodded slowly, and Phil had a feeling that Clint might ask at some point, but any push from Phil would only result in Clint refusing and  pushing Phil away. 

"So, you want me to see if I can find some leads for Francis?" Phil asked, "Because I'd, I'd like to help."

"Yeah," Clint nodded.  "If you can find something..."

"Shame its not summer, Steve can always use an assistant when he's painting houses," Phil said, making a soft face.

"Steve? The art teacher?"

"Yeah, he and a few others make a little extra money doing small construction jobs each year," Phil explained.  "Teachers don't get paid much."

Clint smiled, "Yeah, Francis would like that.  He likes being outside, but the only thing anyone needs right now is a snow shoveler and it's not snowing."

"Yeah," Phil agreed, looking outside.  "I'm wondering if we'll even get a white Christmas."  

"Yeah," Clint agreed. Phil turned back to catch Clint looking outside, and Phil took the moment to admire Clint's profile.

"Speaking of..." Phil started.  "Do we want to try to fit in our next day before the holiday?"

Clint made a face as he considered, "Maybe, might be hard to do."

"Yeah," Phil agreed. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd be willing to go to Tony's New Year's party with me."

"Lemme check with Francis, we normally chill and watch action movies at home until midnight," Clint said.

Phil nodded, before his head shot up.  "Baby sitting."

"Baby sitting?" Clint asked.

"He could babysit," Phil said. "There are plenty of teachers with younger kids and I know the Pyms always need to find someone for the party."

"Their kid is like ten though and Francis is 16, not that big of an age difference," Clint pointed out.

"So?" Phil asked.  "He could do that and I know the Pyms have plenty of parties to go to.  Janet is a social butterfly."

Clint considered it, "I don't know if he'd go for it."

"You could recommend he try it for New Years though," Phil pointed out.

Clint considered it, before nodding, "Devious."

Phil shrugged, but smiled at him. Clint leaned in to kiss him and Phil took that as approving of his deviousness.  Phil reached up to cup his cheek and keep him close.  He leaned forward, banging into the counter and pulled back to groan.

Clint chuckled softly, "Counter got in the way, huh?"

"Yeah," Phil agreed.  He leaned in and kissed Clint quickly.  "I better go."

"Bye, Phil," Clint said, softly.

"Bye, Clint," Phil said, stepping away from the counter to head for the door.

"Hey Phil, question," Clint called out when Phil's hand was on the handle.  Phil turned and arched an eyebrow.  "Christmas."

"Yes?" Phil asked, curious.

"We just started dating," Clint said.  "I'm not sure, should we do something for each other, not do something for each other?"

Phil considered, before nodding in understand.  "Good question.  What do you want to do?"

"I.... I don't know, I mean, it's not like I don't want to do something, because I really like you, but..." Clint said, making a face.

"Maybe something small?" Phil suggested.  "If we find something for the other."

Clint arched an eyebrow at that. "I'd prefer a yes or no."

"How about we just not worry about it this year," Phil decided.  "And as much as it pains, that would mean no gifts of food either."

Clint laughed at that, "Think I'd just make you food or something?"

"I can always hope, Clint, I can always hope," Phil replied.

"Except now you can't, because no gifts," Clint pointed out.

"I know," Phil said, giving Clint a mock-pout.  "And I will survive somehow."

Clint chuckled, "Eh, I might make something for Francis' teachers."

"Don't forget the administration staff, okay?" Phil joked.

"Wouldn't dare," Clint replied, smiling at Phil, because he got the insinuation there.  Phil could get double if Clint conveniently forgot that he was both vice-principal and one of Francis' teachers.

"Good," Phil agreed, before stepping outside and heading to his car.

*

Francis lingered behind the rest of the class as they cleared out of the room.  His classmates left in a hurry, trying not to draw the ire of their teacher, Ms. Romanova.  Francis had a couple of ins with the most feared teacher. He was friends with her son and it wasn't common knowledge that James was her son.  He also the son of her best friend.  None of that, Francis was sure, would allow him to get any special treatment in the classroom.  However, Francis needed help outside the classroom, so he waited until the classroom was cleared and approached her desk.  
Ms. Romanova arched one elegant eyebrow at him, "Yes, Francis?"

"Could you, uh, text my dad, tell him you're giving me a lift home today?" Francis asked, shifting under her look.

"Am I giving you a ride home?" she asked.

"Eventually," Francis said with a nod.  "I need Auntie Nat's advice on something." Her expression hardened slightly at the Auntie Nat, because they both knew it was a nickname that Clint had bestowed upon her that she disliked, but tolerated.

"Does this have to do with a certain holiday just around the corner," she asked.

Francis nodded, "It does."

Ms. Romanova's expression into something softer, one Francis recognized more as Natasha, his dad's best friend.  "Alright.  Now go, before you're late to your next class."

"Thank you," Francis said, slipping out of the room and heading off.

*

James liked to eat with whatever sport he was participating in whenever Torunn decided to work during her lunch. He had eaten with the football team during football season, and so in the winter, he was eating with the swim team.  He would eat with his other friends, but Azari and Francis were in different grades, so they didn't have the same lunch period.  Besides eating with Torunn tended to fuel the rumors that they were dating, which they weren't.  She was like a sister and they both got tired of having to explain that to people.

He was dimly aware of a soft murmur going on behind him, and he turned to see what was going on.  James almost shook his head, he didn't understand why his mother was the most feared teacher in the school.  She was hard on everyone, but she was also fair.  James supposed he was rather biased, looking back he could remember times when she looked completely out of place while trying to take care of him back when he thought she was a family friend. Natasha and Steve had set him down a few years ago to explain his parentage, which was an awkward conversation that he never wanted to go through again.

"James Rogers," Natasha said, coming up to him.

"Ms. Romanova," James said, because it wasn't common knowledge that she was James' mother.  Everyone knew his dad was a single parent and that his mom wasn't in the picture.  She was, but she was always doing something to support him behind the scenes - running concessions, being an usher at the school play.  She was always there for everyone, but really she was there for just him.

"I was asked to deliver this to you," Natasha said, handing him a slip of paper.  James recognized it as a slip that the office sent to students when they had messages for him.

"Thank you," James said, taking it and opening it.  He blinked as he read it, surprised, because Natasha was giving him a lift home with Francis?

"Is everything alright, James?" Natasha asked.

"Yes, ma'am," James said.  "Just surprised at the change in plans."

"You don't have… practice for anything do you?" Natasha asked.  "I can make a phone call to remind someone, if need be?"

"No," James said, shaking his head.  "We don't have any meets until after Christmas break now."

"Good," Natasha said, turning and walking out.

"Wow," Luke said, softly.  "What she want?"

"My mom is giving me a ride home," James said.

"Your mom?" Jack asked. "I thought she was like…. dead." The last bit came out in a hushed whisper.

"No, she's around," James said, shaking his head.  "She's just not very maternal."

"So she just like ditched you?" Jack asked.

"No, she's there if I need her, but I've got my dad, so I don't," James said with a shrug.

"Weird," Jack declared, but went back to his meal when James shrugged. It might be a little weird, but he liked his family.  James glanced down at the note and actually, this could be a good thing.  He needed to get his dad a gift and he and Natasha normally went shopping for that.

*

"Hey," James greeted Francis as the teen strolled up to him after school.

"Hey," Francis said, "Your mom said she'd give me a ride home."

"Yeah?" James asked, blinking in surprise.

Francis nodded.

"Well, she's normally got stuff to do, so when she's ready to go, she usually find me in the library," James explained.

"That works," Francis said.  "I can work on my homework."

"That was my plan," James agreed.  "C'mon, we can study for our geometry test."

Francis made a face and whined, "I hate proofs though…"

"I know," James agreed, patting him on the shoulder.  They trudged toward the library and took over a table.  They worked quietly.

"How's archery club?" James asked, a few minutes later.

"It kinda sucks," Francis said.  "They want me to shoot in a way that's completely different than how my dad taught me.  Plus, you know who Kate Bishop is?"

"Yeah," James nodded.

"She got nicknamed Hawkeye last year, so most of the team thinks she deserves to be called 'Hawkeye' and that I need to choose another nickname," Francis grumbled.

"Sucks, I mean, I know your dad went by that," James said.  "But if one of you has to give it up, maybe both of you should?"

Francis shrugged, "Dad thinks being on a team is good for me though and I can't quit halfway through the season, he made that clear."

James nodded, "I'm sorry."

Francis shrugged, going back to his work. James followed his example until Natasha showed up, pulling out a seat and sitting across from him.

"James, Francis," Natasha said.

"Hey," Francis said closing his book.

"Hi," James said.  "What's with the ride?"

"Francis wants my help with Christmas shopping for his father, I thought we could also do Christmas shopping for Steve as well," Natasha explained.  "If you'd rather wait, then I can take you out some other time?"

James blinked, before shaking his head.  "No, it's cool.  Just as long as Francis doesn't mind going to an art supply store."

"Not if you don't mind going to a kitchen store or a sports shop, I… I don't know what I want to get him," Francis admitted.

"We'll figure it out," Natasha promised.

*

Natasha was grateful that Steve was easy to shop for.  Art supplies were always good and she could get him tried and trued favorites (ones more expensive than what he would get), so it didn't take too long in the art store. James somehow managed to find the odd and bizarre items, but she also knew that Steve and James generally had fun experimenting with whatever James found to give him for Christmas.

Clint, on the other hand, was more difficult due to their years apart.  Natasha had sent him a gift card to a national sporting good chain after she received her yearly gift of food.  She didn't want to do that this year, she wanted to find something that was actually for Clint, because she was glad that he was back in her life.  They went into a department store, mostly so that James could check out the ties and see if any were horrible enough to give Tony as his Christmas gift.  However, Francis made a beeline for the cooking department upon entering the store. James and she followed at more sedate pace, catching up to Francis after he slowed his pace upon reaching the kitchen department.

Natasha kept an eye on Francis as she and James talked about options for some of James' other friends.  She watched as Francis slowed by the expensive Kitchen Aid Mixers.  She could see him hesitate, the slight dropping of his shoulders, before moving forward again.  Natasha paused in front of the mixers, glancing at the price.  No, Francis couldn't afford it and Clint would never spend money on such an item for himself.

"Mom?" James asked.

"Go get a cart for me, would you please, James?" Natasha requested.

"Sure," James said, hesitantly.

"Francis," Natasha called.  The teen turned and looked at her, arching an eyebrow.  "Do you think your father would like a mixer?"

Francis stared at her, before slowly answering, "Yeah…"

"Good," Natasha said.  "I haven't gotten him a gift in years, always sent him a gift card after he sent me my Christmas Fudge, because he never told me when he moved."

"Sounds like Dad," Francis agreed.  "You're really going to buy him one? They're expensive."

"They are," Natasha agreed.  "But Clint is my family, though he forgets it at times."

Francis smiled, "He can be an idiot."

"I know," Natasha said.  "Why don't you pick out an attachment?"

"They're kind of expensive," Francis said, glancing at them.

"You can pay me back after the holidays, if you know there is one he really wants," Natasha said.

"How?" Francis asked.

"Well, if you can't find something else, I'm sure I can find some work that I need to get done, like changing the oil in my car or some minor repairs around my house," Natasha offered.

"Deal," Francis said, sticking his hand out.  Natasha took it and shook it.  She wasn't surprised when it took Francis less than a minute to choose the attachment.  By that time James was back with the cart.  She got the boys to load it up and they headed to the register to pay for it.  She mentally crossed Clint off her list and gave herself a pat on the back.  She was getting him something to make up for a lot of missed presents and with Francis getting him an attachment, she was fairly sure he wouldn't make too much noise about it being too much.

Now all she needed was something for James and Francis, but she would do that when the boys weren't with her.  She learned from previous shopping trips with James for his father that he tended to let some clue drop about what he wanted and she figured Francis would drop a hint as well, all she needed to do was pay attention and she was, even when they didn't think she was.

*

"Who was on the phone?" Clint asked, as Francis trudged back in the room.  
"The Lees, they're friends of some of Natasha's friends," Francis said.  "Their sitter canceled on them last minute, wanted to know if I could sit for them tonight?"

"Do you want to?" Clint asked.

"Yeah, I… I still need to make some money," Francis admitted.

Clint glanced over at the tree, where there were a few presents, but there was one that read To: Dad, From: Francis.  He wanted to ask, but decided if Francis wanted to keep working that was his business so long as grades were up.  "Then go."

"But…" Francis said, gesturing to the kitchen. "We have plans?"

"I can do it myself," Clint said, with a shrug.  "Or we can do it tomorrow, whatever you'd prefer."

"You really don't mind?" Francis asked.

Clint shook his head.  "Nope, go."

"You sure?" Francis questioned again.

"Completely," Clint said.  Francis stared at him, before nodding and heading out to call. He waited for Francis to come back. 

"They said they'd come pick me up in like half an hour," Francis said.  "So I'm going to get ready."

"Okay, you want me to bake cookies without you?" Clint called after him.

"Yeah, though save like a batch of chocolate chip and I want to be able to decorate some gingerbread!" Francis said.  "But you can bake 'em first"

"Alright," Clint agreed, reaching for his phone and texting Phil.   _'Francis just got a chance to baby-sit, want to help me make some Christmas cookies tonight?'_

It took a few minutes, before Phil replied, _'I'd love to watch you make Christmas cookies, seeing as if I helped, I would inadvertently ruin them. When should I come over?'_

 _'An hour'_ Clint suggested.

_'Should I grab some dinner?'_

_'Sure'_

_'Pizza or Chinese'_

_'Chinese'_

_'Alright, see you in an hour'_

Clint smiled, tucking the phone away as Francis reappeared.   He paused, staring at Clint.  Clint arched an eyebrow.  "Why are you smiling?"

"Because I'm happy for you?" Clint suggested.

"Not buying it," Francis stated.  "Did you call Coulson?"

"No," Clint replied, because he hadn't.

Francis' eyes narrowed, as a car honked outside.  "I'll be back around ten."

"Alright," Clint said.  Francis slipped out the front door and Clint got up to make sure the kitchen was clean.

*

Phil pulled into the small driveway just outside Clint's house. The house was older and it needed to be painted, but Phil supposed that was a job for the summer.  He could see the Christmas tree lit up in one of the front windows. He grabbed the plastic bag and trudged around the walk, finding the path of beaten snow that led to the front porch.  Before he knocked, he stamped his feet, removing the worse of the snow.

The door opened and Clint beamed at him.  "Hey, come on in."  He stepped back

"Hi," Phil said, stepping inside.  Clint closed the door behind him, taking his coat to hang up on the line of hooks just inside the door.  Phil tugged off his shoes.  "Nice place."

"Thanks," Clint said, taking the bag of food from him. Phil glanced around the living room.  The couch was old, but still looked comfy.  There was a stack of books on the end table, which Phil recognized as some of the high school text books.  There was a flatscreen mounted above the fireplace, which also had two stocking hanging off of it.  One had arrows going every which way and the other had targets.  Above the hooks was a long bow.

"You use that?" Phil asked, gesturing toward the long bow.

"Not recently, but yeah, I have" Clint said.  "She's a beauty."

"Yeah," Phil agreed. He followed Clint into the kitchen, which was small, but clean.  There was plenty of counter space, which was filled with cooking supplies. "You know I can't do anything in the kitchen."

"You can measure and mix," Clint said, setting the bag down on the bar. "And unwrap the hershey kisses for the peanut butter blossoms."

"I guess, just as long as I'm not in charge of the oven," Phil said, taking a seat and going to pull out the food.  Clint pulled out a glass and waved it at him.  "Water is good for me."

Clint filled up two glasses and grabbed a couple of plates and took a seat next to Phil.  They dished out the food and started discussing what cookies they were going to make, which led to the conversation about how they were going to spend the holidays.

"I'm going to my sister's," Phil replied.  "My parents and my brother, who I'm not all that fond of, will be there."

"Sounds interesting?" Clint suggested.

"It is, because we both adore our nieces," Phil said. "It could be a lot worse."

"Like spending it with your child's grandparents that hate you?" Clint suggested.

"You're not going there, are you?" Phil asked, frowning.

"No," Clint said, shaking his head.  "Not a chance, Francis and I are staying here.  Natasha said that she's coming over for dinner."

"She's not spending it with Steve and James?" Phil asked.

"No, I guess Steve normally goes to his mother's," Clint said, shrugging.  "So while she has an invite there, she doesn't really want to go. Of course, she's welcome here."

"Are you going to be making dinner?" Phil asked.

"Yeah," Clint said.  "Play your cards right, and I might invite you over for some of the leftovers."

"Well, we are doing New Year's Eve together, right?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Clint said, quickly.  "But I live with a teenage boy, who is I think is gearing up for another growth spurt."

"Won't last  a week, hmm?"

"Probably not," Clint said, shaking his head.  "You done?"

Phil nodded, before he suggested, "Maybe, he'll get another babysitting job,"

"Maybe," Clint agreed, giving Phil a smile as he started boxing up the food.

"Why don't I wash the plates and then we can make cookies?" Phil offered.

"Sure," Clint agreed, going to put the boxes in the fridge.

*

"And that's the last batch out of the oven for tonight," Clint said, sprawling across the middle section of the sofa.

"For tonight?"

"Francis and I are going to make some tomorrow," Clint said.  "He'll do more than just sit and watch…  What the hell is this?"

"One of ABC Family's original movies," Phil said, with a sigh.  "Sometimes they play the old claymation films, which seemed appropriate considering our task."

"Yeah, doesn't explain why we're still watching this?"

"Because I forgot it was on due to having a stunning man next to me?"

Clint blinked, glancing over and smiling at him. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," Phil murmured, leaning forward to capture Clint's lips.  Clint met him partway, lips already parted, so that Phil could just lick into Clint's mouth.  All they had was a few kisses, nothing more.  Clint made a soft questioning noise as he broke the kiss and yes, the other man's eyes were darkened with desire.

"Oh…" Clint said, softly, leaning back in. Phil fell backwards and Clint leaned forward to blanket Phil's body with his own as their lips met. The kiss deepened and hands began to roam, slipping under shirts as they squirmed.  They broke the kiss to moans as their hips aligned and they pressed their hardness together for the first time.  "Fuck."

"We can do that," Phil murmured, tugging Clint back down into another kiss as he slipped his leg between Clint's.  Clint ground into it.  

Clint didn't hear the door slam, didn't hear the key in the lock, didn't notice the front door opening.  He did hear Francis announce, "Dad, I'm-- Oh my God!  This is so wrong! You're supposed to be walking in on me, not the other way around!!"

Clint tore away from Phil, turning to look at Francis.  "You're not supposed to be home until 10."

"It's almost 11!" Francis stated.

Clint glanced over at the clock and blinked, before he grunted, "Huh. Uh…" Clint tried to think fast, because there was something he could do here, something parental. "You're grounded?"

"For what?" Francis asked.

"Getting home late?" Clint replied.

Francis glared, before stopping off to his room, "No sex in the living room!!"

"I…I probably should go," Phil said, softly.  Clint glanced back down at him.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, pulling away, but unable to stop staring, because Phil was blushing and it seemed kind of permanent.  Phil sat up. Before he stood, Clint's eyes drifted down. Phil was still hard.  "Phil, I'm, sorry?"

"Not your fault," Phil said, leaning in and kissing Clint's forehead.  "I should have been paying more attention to the time, rather than how good you tasted."

"Phil," Clint said, looking up at him, licking his lips.  Phil ducked his head again, sticking his tongue  into Clint's mouth when Clint opened it.  Clint reached up, cupping his cheek to keep Phil close.  The other man pulled away.

"You are temptation," Phil murmured, kissing him briefly one more time, before pulling away.  "And your son is home, so later."

"Later?" Clint asked.

"Later," Phil promised.  He took a few steps away to pull on his coat.  He paused, looking at him, "Francis isn't really grounded, is he?"

"Nah, I'll pardon him in the morning," Clint said, giving Phil a half-smile, "Tell him, he's suffered enough or something."

"He did walk in on his father and his teacher making out on the couch," Phil pointed out.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "Hence the pardon."

"We're still on for New Year's?" Phil asked.

"Of course," Clint said, getting up.

"Good," Phil said.  He hesitated as he stepped in close to Clint for another kiss.  "I probably won't see you until then, so Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Phil," Clint murmured back.  He kissed the other man quickly, before Phil slipped out the door.  Clint smiled at the door and resisted the urge to whistle.

"Ugh, I think I have a cavity," Francis said.  Clint jumped, turning to spot his son standing in the entryway, glaring at him.

"Quiet you," Clint growled.  Francis rolled his eyes, before taking a bite of his cookie.

"When did you get that?" Clint asked.

"While you were whispering your sweet nothings to one another," Francis replied, dryly.

"He doesn't think you should be grounded," Clint said.

"Well, he's not an idiot like you are," Francis replied.

"Hey! No calling your father an idiot!" Clint objected.

"Please, you can't ground me, when you didn't even realize I was late!" Francis stated.

"Yes, I can, I'm in charge," Clint stated.

"I'm calling Aunt Nat to see what she thinks," Francis said, turning and heading for the phone.  "Bet she also will agree that you're an idiot."

"You realize if you give her one hint of what you saw, she's going to make you tell her everything," Clint yelled after him.

"It'll be worth it!" Francis called back.

"Fuck," Clint muttered, trying to figure out how to handle the conversation with Natasha after Francis got off the phone with her.

*

Francis awoke to a bright room, brighter than normal.  Granted he was able to sleep in long enough for the sun to actually come up, but things were still brighter.  He grinned as he headed toward the window to discover that he right, it had snowed and the world was blanketed in white.  His smile widened as he realized that he didn't see any side of a carved pathways and he could just make out the buried corner of the car.  Francis slipped out into the hall.  His dad did not sleep in very often and it appeared that today was one of those few days.  
Francis went back into his room to change, pulling on warm clothes so that he could shovel.  He debated on starting the coffee; he knew that Clint would wake up if he smelled it and he wanted to let his father sleep.  However, he also knew that Clint wanted to let get a head start on food for when Natasha coming over.  Francis sighed, he'd have to start the coffee, but first he put the dirty clothes in the washer. He headed outside after that to shovel the walk.  After falling on his ass a couple of times, he decided to salt it as well, so he got the ice that had formed under the snow.

Once everything on the driveway and the pathway were clear, Francis slipped back inside and turned the tree on.  it was decorated with purple lights that they'd found years ago.  The ornaments were an assortment of Francis' old craft projects from school, cheap ornaments from the dollar store, and just about every bow and/or arrow ornament that they'd come across.

Francis paused, listening to the house as he stared up at the tree.  He shook his head, because judging from the noise his dad was up and moving in the kitchen.  Francis finished stripping off some of the layers and headed back to the kitchen, rolling his eyes on arrival.

"You better wash that today," Francis pointed out when he saw his father drinking straight out of the pot.

Clint gave him a long look, but didn't say anything.

"Natasha is coming over." 

Silence from Clint.

"It's Christmas Eve." Francis almost laughed at the alarmed look on his father's face.  "You've got time, Dad."  Clint was all kinds of hilarious when he first woke up.  Francis didn't see it too often, because Clint got up before him most days.

Francis left him in the kitchen to wake up some more, so that he could move the clothes from the washer to the dryer and put the last load in the washer.  He went back to the kitchen and started pulling out food for breakfast.  Clint set the coffee pot down and pulled the pans out.

"Been busy this morning?" Clint asked.

"Yeah, did some laundry and shoveled," Francis said.  

"Thanks," Clint said, softly.  He reached over and ruffled Francis' hair.  "Good kid."

"Quiche tomorrow?" Francis asked, ducking away.

"Unless you want something else?"

"Nah," Francis said, shaking his head.  Quiche was a tradition after all.  Together they prepped the food for later today and the next day.  As they prepped, Clint worked on omelets for breakfast.  They talked as they worked and ate, discussing their plans for later today and the next.  Francis went and washed up afterwards, while Clint finished up the prep.  Together they finished cleaning the house up and finished the laundry.

They'd only just finished cleaning when Clint noticed Natasha's car pulling in.  Clint headed toward the door, throwing up the door.

"Tasha!" Clint yelled.

"Hey," Tasha waved, pulling her bag out and heading up to greet them.  Clint pulled her into a hug.

"Is that it?" Clint asked, gesturing toward the bag when he let her go.

"No, there's more in the car." Natasha smiled up at him.  "Francis will carry it in for me though."

"Sure," Francis agreed, ignoring the curious look that his father cast him.

"So you said something about lunch?" Natasha asked, ushering Clint toward the kitchen. Francis was a little surprised when he opened the trunk to find a bit more than he expected.  Still, Francis didn't mind.  He grabbed the mixer, carrying it in and tucking it under the tree, before going back for the rest.

*

"Worried I forgot your present?" Natasha asked, once they were safely in the kitchen.

"No," Clint denied.

"Please," Natasha said, watching him move.  "You know I wasn't going to come empty handed."

"I did not," Clint denied.  "I thought you would."

"Semantics," Natasha replied.  "Well, I know you got me something besides fudge."

"Yeah, well..."

Natasha laughed softly, "Thank you for inviting me by the way."

"Yeah, well if you want to join up, well, you're like a sister so, of course, you're invited," Clint hesitated.  "I'm sorry I never invited you sooner.  I just thought..."

"That I had a better offer?"

"Yeah."

"You're my first choice for whom to spend tomorrow with, Clint."

Clint glanced over and blushed slightly.

"Idiot," Natasha murmured fondly, causing Clint to smile.  "So tell me about the Barton family traditions."

"Well he kind of laze about today," Clint admitted.  "Movies until supper, then we like to go for a drive to look at Christmas lights.  Come back to watch Christmas movies.  We're not religious, but if you want to go to a service, we can."

"No, your plan sounds good," Natasha decided.  "Tomorrow?"

"Sleep in, first up has to make coffee and put the quiche in the oven."

Natasha made a face at that, more because it was expected than because she actually objected.

"It's already made and in the fridge, all you have to do is turn the oven on to 350 and put it in."

"Fine," Natasha sighed, faking her reluctance.

Clint stared at her.  "You don't mind at all do you?"

"No," Natasha admitted.  "But that was always our tradition."

Clint smiled. "We always plan to do presents after breakfast, but sometimes we can't wait, sometimes we can.  Movies until dinner."

"A lot of movies," Natasha pointed out.

"Well, we don't always make it to the theater, so we use today to catch up."

Natasha nodded.  "Sounds like a good plan then."

"Glad to hear it," Francis said, entering the room.

"Everything in?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Francis said with a nod.  "It's all under the tree.  You want me to take your bag upstairs?"

"I'm sleeping upstairs?" Natasha asked, glancing at the two Bartons.

"I figured, you could have my bed, I can sleep on the couch," Clint explained.

"So he can snoop," Francis mock-whispered.

"We could just share," Natasha offered.  "It's not like we haven't before."

Clint glanced between her and Francis, clearly trying to figure out what Francis thought about that.  

"I'd take the offer, cause I'm not sharing with you," Francis stated, stepping more into the kitchen and pulling food out.  Natasha smiled at that and arched an inquiring eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, alright, just don't kill me in my sleep, okay?"

"No promises," Natasha replied with a smile that was all teeth.

"I thought you were making food," Francis whined.

"Didn't you just eat?" Clint asked, looking at his son.

"I could eat again and besides Natasha is hungry, too," Francis agreed.

"Bottomless Pit."

"Growing Boy."

"Hawkeyes," Natasha interrupted what she could tell was an old argument.  "Do we need to go to the video store?"

"Yes," Francis said.

"How about we go eat and then go to the video rental place?" Natasha suggested.

"That works for me," Francis agreed. 

"Of course, it does," Clint said, fondly.  "Alright, lunch then video rental."

Natasha smiled as she watched both of them working together on lunch.  It was simple and light, because there would be snacking while they watched the movies.  

*

Clint shuffled downstairs, heading straight for that wonderful coffee smell.  He wished he was surprised that Francis met him in the doorway with a cup.

"So you don't drink it out of the carafe," Francis stated, pressing it into his hand.

"Does he still do that?" Natasha asked from in the kitchen.

"Yes," Francis said.  Clint took a sip of his coffee and just listened to the two them talk.  It was nice, but there was something missing...

Clint reached out as Francis neared him again in the midst of breakfast prep.  He pulled him in and kissed the top of Francis' head, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Francis muttered, giving him a teenage look of fond disgust for the physical sign of affection.  Clint went and kissed Natasha's cheek, murmuring a soft, "Merry Christmas," to her as well.

"Merry Christmas," she replied.  "Your son is making breakfast."

"Yeah? Knew I kept him around for something."

Natasha smiled at him, "More than just that."

"Yeah," Clint agreed.

"I've been up for almost an hour," Francis replied.

Clint looked down at his coffee.  It was rather warm for hour old coffee.

Francis rolled his eyes, "I didn't start the coffee until Nat was up."

"I don't need coffee to jump start my brain," Natasha said, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair and rubbing his head.  He sighed happily, leaning into her touch.

It wasn't long before breakfast was on the table.  They ate quickly, before heading into the living room.  Francis was practically bouncing and Clint settled into his chair as Natasha took a seat on one corner of the couch.  It didn't take long for Francis to huff and start dividing up the piles.  

"So one a time or all at once?" Clint asked.

"One at a time," Natasha and Francis said together, before smiling at one another.  Clint stared at them and had a feeling he should regret introducing them. He knew there was a reason that he'd been reluctant to move closer to Natasha.

"Okay," Clint said, slowly.  "Why don't you  go first, Hawkeye."

Francis grinned at him and tore into his first box.  It wasn't long before most of the gifts were open and Clint was opening the last gift from Francis.  There was still one under the tree, but Clint had a feeling that it was for Francis, probably from Natasha.  He removed the wrapping paper and couldn't help but frown, just a bit.

"Something the matter?" Francis asked.

"Nothing," Clint said, forcing a bright smile.

"Your fake smile used to be better than that," Natasha stated.

"it's just, you got me something, and it's an attachment for something I don't have," Clint said, looking at Francis.  "I... I do like it."  He really did and would love it, if he had the mixer that it attached onto.  "And I'd probably use it a lot if I had..."

"The mixer that it attaches to?" Francis asked.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, before he added softly.  "Someday."  He would buy that mixer that went with it, though that wouldn't be for another few years.  There was no way he could afford it until after Francis was out of college.  He forced himself to put on a positive face.  "Hey, there's one more under the tree, why don't you open it?"

"Oh," Francis said, before going over to pull it out.  "It's not for me."

"It isn't?"

"It's for you," Francis said, carrying it over to him and setting it at Clint's feet. Sure enough the tag read: _To Clint Barton_. In Natasha's neat handwriting.  Clint looked over at Natasha, who was watching him with her best poker face on.

"Tasha," Clint said.

"Clint," Natasha replied back.  He glanced up at Francis, who was an easier read.  His son was clearly eagerly awaiting Clint opening his gift.

"Open it," Francis encouraged, after being stared at for a bit.

Clint carefully removed the wrapping paper and it was a what he thought it was going to be, a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer, an expensive Kitchen Aid stand mixer. It was something he'd wanted for years and now he had one.  He bit his lip, unsure of how to respond, because as much as he wanted one, this was way too much.

"Thanks," Clint settled for gently resting his hand on the box.

"Should we use it today?" Francis suggested.

"I don't think there's anything we need to use it for," Clint said.

"Tomorrow?"

"Maybe, we'll see," Clint said, before getting up.  "I think I'm doing to get dressed." He retreated, before he said something to Natasha that he'd regret.  He'd have to word his refusal carefully.  He grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom.  A shower would let him get away and allow him to think.  By the time he came back, Natasha was on his bed.

"Tasha," Clint said.

"Clint, why don't you just say it," Natasha said.

"Say what?"

"That the mixer is too much," Natasha answered.  "That you can't keep it."

"I wasn't..."

"Bullshit," Natasha stated.  "You were as soon as you thought you found a way to bring it up in a way designed not to hurt my feelings."

"Well, it is a little much..."

"I know, and I don't care.  You're my best friend, I can get you something nice every so often."

"Not that great of a friend, I disappeared for years."

"I know."

"So..."

"Clint," Natasha started.  "If you had the money and you found out there was something I really wanted, but couldn't afford.  Would you buy it for me?"

 _Yes_ , Clint thought, but didn't want to actually admit that out-loud.  "Maybe."

"You would," Natasha replied. "Besides now I can expect more baked goods."

Clint started at her, before shaking his head. "I could never repay you."

"I like paczkis, but I haven't had a good one in a while," Natasha replied.  "Fresh bread would be nice."

"I already made rolls..." Clint said, thinking of dinner.

"But later..."

"I still think its too much."

"Are you going to keep it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Always, but I would be upset," Natasha admitted.  "I didn't buy this to get you a big present from you next year.  I got it because you're my friend and it's something that you want that you wouldn't buy for yourself.  It's something that you would use, a lot.  I can afford to splurge on your Christmas gift, because its the first actual gift I've give you in several years.  If you can't see it as the gift it is; if you can't that it comes from a place of love, because you're _my_ family, then I can return it."

Clint fell silent, looking at her.  Natasha stood and patted his shoulder, "Think about it."  She slipped out of the room.  Clint watched her go and scrubbed a hand through his hair.  He sat on the bed and considered it.  It was too much, far too much, but Natasha was right, she was family.  Francis had known and together they'd plotted behind his back.  He never should have moved back here, because with those two teaming up, he never stood a chance.  Clint smiled, he had a mixer, a really nice one.  He mentally ran over what they were having for dinner, considering what was done and what wasn't, and frowned.  There was nothing he could try it out with.

"Damnit," he muttered, before heading downstairs to join his family.  He'd have to make something tomorrow.

*

"Don't freak out," Natasha said, as she stepped into the diner.

Clint arched an eyebrow. "Somehow that makes me want to freak out."  
"This is a good thing, you can do this," Natasha went on, ignoring him as she walked up to the counter. Some of the other patrons were turning to look at them.

"Do what?" Clint asked as the bells jingled. Clint glanced over to see a woman in a smart suit, red haired pulled back in a sensible hairstyle. Clint glanced back over at Natasha.

"Clint, I'd like you to meet my friend, Pepper," Natasha said, beckoning the other woman over. "Pepper, this is the guy I was telling you about, Clint."

"Pepper," Clint said, extending his hand.

"Clint," Pepper said, smiling at him as she shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Thanks," Clint said, glancing over at Natasha.

"You own this place?" Pepper asked, glancing around.

"No, I just run it," Clint said.

"Food's a lot better since he took over," one of his regular customers, Gary, said.

"Great," Pepper said. "Natasha said you also do catering."

Clint blinked, "I... what?" He looked over at Natasha who was nodding her head and giving him a glare. The conversation as Natasha first walked in suddenly made so much sense.

"Honestly, the only thing I've catered are my son's birthdays," Clint replied, choosing to go with honesty.

"Oh," Pepper's face fell. "Natasha thought you could help me out."

"Help you out how?" Clint asked, because he could feel Natasha's glare get worse. The least he could do is hear her out.

"Well, the catering company I hired for my New Year's Party had a fire in the building they work out of and now I have a huge party and no food," Pepper said.

"How many people?" Clint asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh," Pepper hesitated, glancing at Natasha. "A couple hundred."

Clint whistled softly, "Honestly, I couldn't do that by myself and I don't have the staff..."

"I'd help," Natasha volunteered.

"Still need more people," Clint stated.

"Well, I have servers and I know Tony's friends would be more than willing to help out, I just need someone in charge that knows what they're doing."

"I..." Clint started.

"Hey, Clint, can I get a refill, I'm dying of thirst," one of the regulars, Mrs. Czechowski, called out to him.

"Be right back," Clint said, going to grab the drink for her. He grabbed the cup, "Sprite, right?"

"That's right. Though Clint," Mrs. Czechowski indicated for him to lean down. He did. "You do realize who that is that's asking for you help?"

"A friend of a friend?" Clint asked.

"That's Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries," Mrs. Czechowski informed him. "Now, let's say down the line that you decide to open your own business, you'll have someone that owes you a favor, you'll make connections at that party, because your food is delicious, and you'll make more money there than here."

"Um," Clint hesitated.

"Think about it," Mrs. Czechowski said. Clint nodded and refilled her drink, setting it down and returning to Natasha and Pepper. Both their heads were together, discussing things. Pepper looked defeated.

"Uh," Clint said, trying to think of what he could say.

"Clint," Pepper said. "You do know I wasn't asking for you to do this for free, I intend to pay more than I would the other company, because its such late notice."

"I'm... I'm not sure my food is up to your usual fare," Clint pointed out.

"Clint, I've called every catering company I trust.  They're all booked, which I expected. I've called some others that I know don't do as good of a job and they're going to try to gouge me, which I won't do. Natasha thinks you can do it, I'd rather trust you and pay you more than a company I know is going to be horrible," Pepper stated.

"Lady, have you tried his food?" Gary piped up. "It ain't going to be horrible."

Pepper smiled at that, "I haven't actually, I'm trusting Natasha."

"You'll get me some staff?" Clint asked.

"Of course," Pepper said.

"You'll pay them all extra, because honestly, I had plans, but..." Clint started. "Hell, my kid already has a job, so I can't use him."

"Janet will understand, Pepper will pay Francis more," Natasha pointed out.

"VanDyne?" Pepper asked, looking over at Natasha. Natasha nodded. Pepper rolled her eyes, "I've told her so many times that she can bring Junior to the party, but she doesn't listen. Steve has brought James."

"Are you talking about Steve Rogers and James Rogers?" Clint asked.

Pepper nodded and smiled, "I am. Tony works with Steve at Shield Academy."

"She knows Phil, too." Natasha smirked at him.

"Phil?" Pepper asked, glancing back at Clint. "Oh! You're Phil's Clint! Oh, I can talk to Phil for you and I promise to make it up to the two of you."

"You don't..." Clint started and then realized that Phil was friends with the CEO of Stark Industries and... He looked at Natasha, "I thought we were going to some sort of teacher party."

"It is, Tony invites his colleagues to shield him from the business men." Natasha explained. "I told Phil to leave that part out."

Clint stared between them, shaking his head. "Let me talk to Phil and see if he's alright with everything."

"He already knows I'm looking for someone," Pepper volunteered. "He was one of the first few calls I made, sometimes he knows of someone just starting out that's really good that he's used for the Academy."

"Let me to talk to him," Clint said. "If he's okay with me breaking our date, and you can find some people. I... I guess, I can try my hand at catering."

"Thank you," Pepper said.

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," Clint objected.

"Here's my number, call me when you've talked to Phil." Pepper said, pressing a card into his hands.

"Thanks," Clint said, taking it.

"Thank you Natasha," Pepper said, turning to her. "I have to go, I'll look forward to hearing from you." With that she was gone.

Clint shook his head and then looked over at Natasha. "You so better help me with this."

"Of course," Natasha agreed. "You'll do fine."

Clint glared at her, but she was unimpressed. "Call me when you talk to Phil."

"Sure," Clint agreed, tucking Pepper's card into his pocket. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"I had a lunch date with Pepper, we came here afterwards," Natasha explained.

"Oh, I see, good enough to cater, but not good enough to eat," Clint replied.

"Please," Natasha said. "Pepper and I ate at Stark Industries and when she told me this, she took a longer lunch to come talk to you in person."

"Great," Clint said.

"You'll do fine, Clint," Natasha said, before heading out.

"Yeah, Clint, you'll do fine," Gary agreed. "Now, how about a slice of pie?"

Clint shook his head and promised to talk to Phil if he came in tonight. If he didn't, he'd call him.

*

It was late and Clint was grateful that it was almost time to close up. He'd been able to get some major cleaning done in between the few stragglers. When the chimes over the door jingled, Clint grumbled, because he'd been hoping that he'd be able to get all the cleaning done and leave early. He went into the main area and his frowned turned into a smile, because there, bundled up, was Phil.

"Hey," Phil said.

"When you'd get back in town?" Clint asked, leaning over the counter to steal a kiss.

"Just now," Phil said, kissing him back. "Haven't even been home yet. I was driving by and decided I wanted to see you."

Clint felt his cheeks warm up, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I missed you," Phil agreed. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"I did, I... Natasha bought me a mixer," Clint said.

"A mixer?"

"The nice couple hundred dollar mixer from Kitchen Aid."

"Oh, those are nice," Phil agreed. "You'll like it."

"Yes, but... It's a little too much, but... I won't ever convince Natasha of that." Clint shrugged.

"She is a very stubborn person," Phil agreed.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "How was yours?"

"Good," Phil nodded. "Crazy, my nieces are getting bigger and bigger each year."

"Yeah, they do that," Clint said.

Phil nodded, "Yeah, so, I have a question for you."

"Shoot," Clint said.

"Have you ever done any catering?" Phil asked.

Clint stared at him, before arching an eyebrow. "Uh, no, why?"

"My friend's caterer cancelled on her. She's trying to find a replacement, and you make excellent food, so..."

"This friend wouldn't happen to be friend with Natasha and go by Pepper?"

"Yeah," Phil said, nodding. "How'd you...? Oh, they already asked."

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "But I have a date that night and I'm not inclined to cancel that."

"I wouldn't mind," Phil said. "As long as I still get my midnight kiss."

"Would you be willing to help?"

"I'd be happy to chop stuff up for you and do whatever I can to keep you organized," Phil agreed.

"Alright, I'll call her and tell her I'll do it," Clint said, fully willing to admit defeat. "Let's see if Pepper and Natasha can get Francis out of babysitting that night."

"Is he allowed to be in a kitchen like that?" Phil asked. "I mean, child labor laws."

"Family business," Clint pointed out. "Francis knows his way around the kitchen."

"Okay," Phil said, leaning in to steal another kiss.

Clint leaned in for it, cursing the counter that was between them.

"I don't suppose I could get something to eat?" Phil asked. "Something that doesn't require much washing up?"

"You are such a sweetheart," Clint murmured, "I'd make a mess for you, if you wanted something more involved."

"I'll settle for something small, maybe pie?"

"Of course," Clint said, pulling away to get some for Phil. As he tried very hard not freak out about the idea of catering a party for Pepper Potts and her business associates.

*

Clint glanced at one of the many clocks that he'd set throughout the the kitchen. He frowned at the time.

"Alright, champagne needs to be start being distributed," Clint called out as he turned to face the staff. "Let's get that out and poured." The crew, which Clint hadn't hired, was pretty awesome and he was grateful that Pepper Potts had found them. They were rather ragtag, but they had done well. He went back to making sure that food was ready to go and found Natasha standing next to him.

"It's time for your break," Natasha said.

"I'm not taking one," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Yes, you are," Natasha said. "Right, Steve?"

"Yeah," Steve said, coming up behind him. "You are going to go out and find Phil, so that you can celebrate together."

"I don't have time for that," Clint said. "There's too much that needs to be done here."

"No, there isn't," Natasha said. "We know what we have to do and you have been amazingly organized, so you head on out there."

"Take some champagne," Steve added.

Clint glanced between the two of them and shook his head. "You two planned this, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Natasha said. "Now, go."

Clint wanted to make a bigger fuss. But the truth was, he also wanted to spend some time tonight with Phil. Especially since before Potts had shown up at his restaurant, he'd been planning to do more than just kiss Phil at midnight. He was going to be exhausted after tonight, so that wasn't going to happen.

Clint slipped out of the kitchen, taking in the party, which was a mix of those people in black tie and those far more casual. Then again this was a party to which Tony had invited his clients from Stark Industries and his fellow teachers. The teachers probably couldn't afford some of the outfits that others were wearing. Clint had seen how much those cost and knew that a teacher's salary, even one as nice as from Shield Academy, wouldn't be able to afford one. Clint scanned the crowd, searching for Phil. He spotted the other man and grabbed two glasses off the tray of a passing waiter and headed to him.

"Hey," Clint announced himself, interrupting the conversation that Phil was having with someone.  
Phil turned, smile widening when he saw Clint. "Hey."

"Natasha said I have to take a break." Clint informed him. "I brought you some champagne."

"How long is your break?" Phil asked, taking one of the glasses.

"Long enough for a midnight kiss," Clint replied as Phil wrapped an arm around him to pull him in. 

Clint leaned into Phil and got a quick kiss from the other man.

"Good," Phil purred, before turning back to the other man. "Clint, have you met Jon?"

Clint glanced over and almost backpedaled. "Yes, I've met Jon. Sir, happy holidays."

"Barton," Jon rumbled, glare in place.

Phil glanced between them. "I didn't think you would know one of Tony's business partners."

"This is Jon Morse, Francis' grandfather," Clint explained. Phil blinked, before he realized.

"Oh," Phil said. "You're Francis' grandfather?"

"I am," Jon agreed. "I take it that you know Francis through Clint?"

"Actually, Francis is enrolled at Shield Academy now," Phil said. "He's in one of my classes and doing very well. I'm going to hate to have him switch teachers at the end of the semester, but, well, I don't want to seem biased."

"Francis is at Shield Academy? That's a hefty price for school," Jon said, directing his gaze toward Clint.

"It is, but I want to do the best for Francis," Clint admitted. "I got a scholarship for him this year and Francis should be able to get an even better scholarship for next year, so..."

"Well, Francis is Bobbi's son," Jon said.

"No doubt in my mind that he got her brains," Clint agreed. "Bobbi was always the smart one."

"Though her judgment was a bit lacking," Jon said and Clint knew it was a dig at himself, but he decided to ignore it as best he could.

Phil didn't seem inclined to want to let it by, and cast a quick glance at Clint. Clint shook his head, trying to get Phil to drop it.

"So, are you here as Phil's date?" Jon asked.

"Actually, I'm here as a favor to, uh, Ms. Potts," Clint answered.

"He's the reason we have food tonight," Phil said, sounding proud. "Delicious food."

Clint ducked his head at the praise. "It's not that great."

"On the contrary, you should see my google calendar," Phil stated. Clint glanced at him, tilting his head. Phil smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and flipping through the screens.

"Hawkeye Catering Calendar?" Clint asked, glancing at the heading.

"You're a hit," Phil explained. "Pepper has been directing everyone to me, so I can take numbers for events. In fact, Jon here wants to hire you for..."

"A business lunch at the beginning of March," Jon finished.

"You do?" Clint asked.

"I did," Jon said.

"Please," Phil said. "You were arguing with me about the fact that I could not confirm that Clint was available. Mostly because he hasn't agreed to do his own catering company."

"You haven't?" Jon asked.

"No," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Jon," Susan Morse said, approaching him. "Have you tried the stuffed mushrooms yet? They're delicious. Tell me you have Potts' caterer booked."

"Not yet, Susan," Jon growled.

"Well why not?" Susan said.

Clint smiled as he watched them argue. Susan clearly hadn't realized he was standing there and was arguing for him.

"Told you you were good," Phil said, smugly in his ear.

"I can't run a catering from my kitchen though," Clint said.

"How do you like the kitchen here?" Phil asked.

"It's nice, if I had that kitchen, I could probably do this," Clint replied, thinking about the beautiful kitchen inside.

"Yeah, Tony owes you a favor for tonight. I think a year's use of the kitchen might be a good way to call it in," Phil replied.

"He'd never agree to that," Clint said.

"You might have to promise to do a couple more catering events for him, but..." Phil said. "I bet you could get him to agree to it. I have faith in your haggling skills."

Clint glanced down at the phone and at all the jobs that Phil had 'penciled in'. He'd gotten the expected number of people at each event, contact information, and what they were thinking about serving.

"You really think I should do this?" Clint asked. "I don't know how to run a business."

"I'll help," Phil offered. "So will Natasha, so will a bunch of people."

"Phil..." Clint started, staring at his phone.

"If you don't want to, that's fine," Phil whispered. Clint glanced up to meet soft blue eyes full of encouragement.

"Can I think about it?" Clint asked.

"I told them to expect a phone call by the end of the week," Phil said. "I'll call and decline all of them, if you decide not to, so it's all up to you, Clint."

"You're too good to me, you know that?" Clint said softly.

"I don't think I am, but sure," Phil said, smiling at him. Clint turned to find the Morses were gone, which was just as well. Jon has probably pointed him out to Susan.

"Quiet down," Tony's voice suddenly boomed over the loudspeakers. "We are in the last minutes of 2013 and I have a few things to say."

"Not this again," Phil whined.

"Does he do this every year?" Clint asked.

"Yes, yes, he does." Phil replied. "Though the best one was when he decided to step down from Stark Industries and hand the reins over to Pepper."

"Yeah?" Clint asked, arching an eyebrow.

"He recreated Bilbo's farewell speech from Fellowship of the Ring. It was hilarious," Phil admitted.

"Before he actually left? I thought the teachers didn't start coming here until after he started working at Shield."

"Fury liked to come, so he could network," Phil explained. "We've got plenty of parents of our students here after all."

"True," Clint agreed, before leaning in to kiss Phil again.

"What was that for?" Phil asked as he pulled away.

"I wanted to kiss one more time this year," Clint purred, aware that the countdown had begun. They lingered close to one another. Clint could feel the tiny puffs of air from Phil's breath as they waited for zero. When it came, their mouths pressed against each other, opening almost immediately, so that their tongues could tangle together. Clint didn't want to pull away, but eventually he had to, so that he could breathe. "Happy New Year, Phil."

"Happy New Year, Clint," Phil said, holding up his glass. Clint was surprised that both of their glasses had stayed upright. Clint gently tapped his glass against Phil's and together they took a sip. "Can I give you a lift home tonight?"

"Yes," Clint said. He hesitated. "Did you know that Francis ended up babysitting? The VanDyne's raised their prices to beat Pepper's offer to help me in the kitchen."

"No, I didn't," Phil said. "Is that an invite?"

"Yes," Clint decided.

"Should I run home to grab my toothbrush?" Phil asked.

"If you want to watch some bowl games at my house tomorrow, yes."

"Sounds like I should bring a change of clothes."

"I wouldn't object."

Phil smiled at him and kissed him again, tasting of champagne this time.

*

Clint jerked awake, aware of the heavy arm on his stomach.  Phil slumbered on next to him as Clint tried to figure out what had woken him up.

"Dad!" Francis called from downstairs. "I'm home."

Clint slipped out of the bed, getting a grumbly Phil when he slid out of the bed.  Clint stared at the bare shoulders, getting lost in the play of muscles.  He remembered watching them flex last night.  He'd used the last of his energy last night and had passed out afterwards, but he'd been able to take advantage of his son being out of the house.  Too bad that Francis had to come home, because Clint could have taken advantage of that again.  

Clint forced himself to pull on pants and made his way downstairs.  Francis was already in the kitchen, making food.

"They didn't feed you?" Clint asked.

"They offered, but I knew you'd need someone to feed you," Francis said.  "Though Mr. Coulson's car is outside."

"Yeah, Phil's here," Clint admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"I suppose I should be happy that you did that while I was out of the house," Francis said, swapping the cup that had been placed under the spigot with the pot.  He handed the cup to Clint.  "Is he staying?"

"I think so," Clint said, taking a sip. "All we do is watch the games, so..."

"That's fine," Francis said.  He hesitated.  "How was the party?"

"People want to hire me to cook for them," Clint said, taking a seat at the table.

"Yeah?" Francis asked.

"Yeah, I... I don't know..." Clint said, shaking his head.

"I think it sounds like a good idea," Francis stated.  "I mean, you've done odd jobs all my life, you've always been really good about cooking."

"I don't know anything about running a business though," Clint stated.

"So learn," Francis said.

"You mean go to school," Clint stated.

Francis nodded.  "You can focus on what you want to do. You're happy cooking for people, and you've got some connections now."

"Yeah, I guess," Clint agreed, thinking about it.

One of the stairs creaked and a few seconds later a sleepy, adorably rumpled Phil Coulson arrived, complete with glasses.  Clint wanted to take him back to bed.

"Morning," Phil said, glancing between the two.

"Morning, Phil," Clint said.

"Morning," Francis echoed.

"How long until the coffee is done?" Phil asked, eying the pot.

Francis stared at him.  "You two are fucking soulmates."  He grabbed another cup and pulled the switch, pouring what had made it into the pot into the cup and handing it over to Phil.

"Thank you," Phil said, taking the cup over to the table and kissing Clint's forehead, before taking a seat.

"Francis thinks I should the catering thing," Clint said.

"Mm, Francis is smart," Phil said, taking a sip.  Francis glanced between.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "Maybe take a couple of business classes."

"Good idea," Phil said. "I can make recommendations. Later. More Awake."

Clint nodded in his agreement.  He'd talk this over with Natasha, but considering she was the one to introduce him to Pepper, Clint was certain she was going to be supportive of it.

*

"What do you think?" Steve said, holding up three different logos for Hawkeye catering.  One had a hawk in the background, the other second was all lowercase with the 'h' and 't' in hawkeye catering being made up of an arrow and the 'a's being target like, and the third was a stylized bow with an arrow in it, catering filled the gaps of the bow and the hawkeye made up the arrow with the 'H' bent to form the fletching and the last 'e' bent to make an arrowhead shape.

"I like the second one," Natasha stated.  "It's subtler."

"Yeah," Phil agreed.

"Thirded," Francis said.

"I guess we're going with the second one," Clint stated.

"Nice choice, Jan was going to hit you if you decided on something else," Steve replied, flipping the other two logos over.

"Jan?" Clint asked, looking at Francis.

"I may have mentioned you were going to start catering when I was babysitting Pym," Francis admitted. 

"How'd she know Steve was doing the logo?" Clint asked.

"That would be my fault," James said from where he was eating.  They had gathered in Tony's kitchen for the first ever meeting of Hawkeye catering.  Clint wasn't sure what to do with all the support he was getting from everyone. Phil and Natasha were tutoring him, so he could take the GED and hopefully pass.  Pepper was not only giving him advice on running a business, but was also taking care of the paperwork.  Tony was giving Clint the kitchen to use as his base of operations free for the year, so long as Tony got first dibs on catering for the Fourth of July and for New Years again next year.  Clint was going to try to do it for cost, but he had a feeling they wouldn't let him.  Steve had volunteered to make a logo for Clint, which is what this meeting was mainly about.  

"How is this your fault?" Clint asked, looking at James.

"I mentioned that Dad was doing logos for you when I was over there," James stated. 

"She called me up and wanted to see them.  I didn't think it would matter, so I did.  Is that alright?" Steve asked.

"It's fine," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Huh," Natasha said, tilting her head.  "That explains why Jan suddenly wanted to know what colors you liked."

"What you'd tell her?" Clint asked.

"Purple," Natasha replied.  "You like purple."

"I think the logo would look good purple," Phil commented.  "Choose the right shade and you can have black or white as background colors, or gray. " 

"We could switch it to that," Steve said, nodding and jotting a note down.  His phone pinged and he glanced at it.  "Jan wants to know if you chose the good one yet."

"Go ahead and tell her I did," Clint replied.

Steve tapped out the message.

"So next order of business," Clint said, glancing at his list.  "I guess I should find some people that I can hire for events.  I mean I can't hire them full time now, but…"

"I've got a couple of seniors that are thinking of going to culinary school," Phil said.  "So does Xavier's."

"Really?" Clint asked.

"They're going to be good for the basics, and you might have to teach them the more complex stuff, but it'll look good on their application," Phil explained.  

Clint was figuring his response, when there was a knock at the kitchen door.  Steve frowned and got up, going to open it.  He peered out and then opened the door wide so that Janet VanDyne could enter with a large box.

"Jan?" Clint said, moving to get up.

"Hi Clint, the boys told me you were going to open your own catering business, and I do a fashion show every year.  I want to make sure I get you for that date."

"You've put up with my son often enough that's not a problem," Clint stated.

"Hey!" Francis objected, but was mostly ignored.

"Don't say that, Clint," Jan replied.  "I had a bribe made up for you and everything."

"A bribe?" Clint asked as Jan shoved the box into his arms.

"In there," Jan replied.  It was decently heavy, but Clint set it on the table and opened it up.

"Are you kidding me?" Clint asked, staring at the top of it.

"What is it?" Phil asked.

Clint pulled it out and put it on.  The black chef's jacket fit wonderfully and the logo he'd just decided on was embroidered on the left hand side in purple.

"It looks great," Natasha said as the others nodded.

"It has short sleeves," Phil noted.

"Well of course," Jan said.  "Clint's arms are amazing.  If I weren't a married woman..."

"You'd be single," Phil growled, causing Natasha to laugh.  Clint blushed at the possessive tone in Phil's voice.  Steve and James were staring in shock and Francis was just making the 'Why did I have to hear that face!' Phil blinked and realized the attention on him, he looked embarrassed as he looked at Clint.  "Right?"

"Like I'd give you up," Clint said, making his way over to kiss Phil.

"I take it I didn't cross a line?" Phil asked, softly.

"Nope," Clint said.  "Kinda liked it."

"Good," Phil said.

"Weren't we having a meeting?" Francis asked.  "Because I did not come to watch you two make out.  It's kind of disgusting."

Clint laughed, pulling away.  "Let Phil know the dates, Jan, he's being my schedule keeper for now.  Also, what would you have done if I'd chosen another one?"

"Reject your choice and force you to accept mine," Jan replied.  "After all, I'm the fashion person.  I know what looks good and that one was Steve's favorite too."

"it was?" Clint asked, looking at Steve.

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding.

"Thank you, both of you, all of you," Clint said, looking around the room.  "I can't believe I'm doing this and I think I'm insane most days, but then I realize I actually have people to watch my back and…  it means a lot."

Clint supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Steve pulled him into a hug after that or that it turned into a group hug when Jan wrapped her arms around his back.  He was stuck in the middle, but didn't really care, because he was surrounded by friends and family. 

Well, he didn't care so long as the hand on his ass belonged to Phil.  

**Author's Note:**

> Logo 1 and 3 are my own ideas. Logo 2 is an extension of the current _Hawkeye_ comics title's logo.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Graduation Presents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415167) by [uofmdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/pseuds/uofmdragon)




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